For Now: Season Two
by Eileen
Summary: The continuing adventures of the Riders. Chapter 30: the mystery of the old photograph thickens. And there's more drinking. And karaoke.
1. The Beginning, part 1

The last of the teleportation beacons was due to be planted in the middle of the largest continent in the Western Hemisphere, in a place called Oklahoma by the natives. Eubulon thought the name sounded pretty, but he wouldn't have time for sightseeing.

"Get in and get out," General Xaviax had told him. "Report back to me when it's done. I'm counting on you, Eubulon."

"Yes, General," he had replied, giving the straight-armed salute that was the hallmark of the Northern Army.

It wasn't that difficult to blend in with the native population. He could change his appearance to look like anything he wanted, and to simulate the natives—with their smooth pink skin, tiny eyes, and fleshy ears—was no trouble at all. He couldn't understand why he was now having such a hard time breathing. Contaminants in the air, or the water? No, they would have detected those.

When he returned to base, he would have to run a complete medical examination to . . . to . . . it was actually **paining** him to breathe now. And his body felt too warm, although the air temperature was rather cool.

It would have to wait until he planted the beacon. Eubulon found the site and set up the equipment without any trouble, although when he stood up, he felt so dizzy that he had to sit down again. What was **wrong** with him?

He needed to return to the drop point and signal for help. Once he was back at the . . .

He couldn't stand up. There was simply no strength left in his limbs. All he could do was lie there, on the ground, and hope that someone found him before he died.

"Jerry," Helene Duval said, pointing out the car window, "what's that behind the barn?"

"I don't know," her husband said. He stopped the car, shut the engine off, and clambered out to take a look.

"It's a man!" said six-year-old Len. "Is he dead?"

"Hush, boy." Jerry leaned down to examine the stranger. No visible wounds . . . but the heat coming off him indicated a serious infection. "Helene, get the guest bedroom ready, and call the doctor. This man's very sick, very sick indeed."

"What is it, Jerry?" she asked.

"I won't know till I get him into the house. From the way he's wheezing, though, it sounds like it could be pneumonia."

"Are we safe?"

"I'm not sure. Len, you get inside and help your mother."

"Yes, sir," the boy said, and followed Helene inside the house.

Jerry hated to have to move the fellow, but it wasn't doing him any good lying outside on the cold ground. He went to lift the man up, and found that he was heavier than he looked.

The stranger's eyelids fluttered, and he stared at Jerry groggily. "Who . . . what . . ." he gasped.

"It's all right, mister. Don't try to talk. Can you walk? Just nod or shake your head."

The man nodded slowly.

"Good. I'll give you a hand. My name's Jerry."

"Eu . . . bulon."

"Okay, Mr. Eubulon, let's get you into the house and into bed. My wife's called the doctor to come look at you. Don't you worry about a thing. You're going to be just fine."

With Jerry's help, Eubulon was able to get to his feet and walk the twenty feet or so into the house. The guest bedroom was just off the kitchen, and Helene had turned the sheets down. Eubulon looked at the bed as if he had never seen one before.

"Do you need help?" Jerry asked.

"Help?"

"Just . . . lie down there. Don't worry, it's very comfortable."

"This is . . . a sleeping place?"

"Of course. Why, don't they have them where you come from?"

"Not . . . like this."

Jerry thought he understood. "Oh, I get it! My brother-in-law was stationed in Japan when he was in the Army, and he said they sleep on mats on the floor. Is that where you're from? Japan?"

Eubulon was unable to answer for several minutes, due to a lengthy coughing fit.

When he was able to breathe again, he said, "No . . . not exactly."

"Well, we can talk about it later. I'll let you rest until the doctor gets here. Just call me if you need anything." Jerry left the room quietly, closing the door behind him.

Eubulon closed his eyes and wondered if he had been missed yet. How long had he been here? A few hours? A day? Longer? What would happen when Xaviax sent someone to find him? Or would he even bother?

He became aware of a presence near him and opened his eyes. The boy was standing by his bedside, looking down at him.

"Are you gonna die?"

"I hope not," Eubulon whispered.

"Why were you taking a nap on the ground?"

"I was . . . tired. I couldn't get up."

"Where are you from?"

"Very far away from here."

"Farther than China?"

"Yes."

"Farther than the moon?"

He was about to answer when Jerry came back into the room. "Len, don't bother the man!"

"Sorry." The boy lowered his head in shame.

"He was no bother," Eubulon protested, but Jerry either didn't hear or chose to ignore him.

"Go see if your mother needs your help with anything."

"Yes, sir." The boy gave Eubulon a little wave as he left the room.

"You shouldn't punish him for his curiosity," Eubulon whispered. "Your son asks interesting questions."

"He's not our son," Jerry admitted. "He's our foster son. His parents died when he was only a few months old, and he's been in several homes before he came to us."

"Did no one want him?"

"I don't know. They wouldn't tell us. He's a good boy, though. Does what he's told, and all. He doesn't usually take to strangers right away, though. I wonder why he came to you."

"I . . . I don't know."

Helene poked her head in the door at that moment. "Jerry, Bill's here."

"Thanks, dear. Bill Harper is our family doctor, and an old friend of mine. We go all the way back to grammar school together, believe it or not. Give me a few minutes to fill him in on the situation and I'll send him right in."

Eubulon wondered what he was in for. Given the relatively primitive state of this world, would he be faced with a medicine man shaking bones and chanting over him?

No, that was ridiculous. Jerry trusted him; Eubulon decided that he would, as well.

"What have we got here, Jerry?" Bill asked as he took off his coat and hung it on the rack.

"I found him out by our barn, just laying there in the dirt. He hasn't told me much of anything yet, but I gather he's not from around here. He's in pretty bad shape, so I didn't want to make him talk too much just yet."

"That's fine. Helene, my bag, please."

Helene handed him his black bag and showed him into the room. Jerry watched Len, sitting on the floor playing with his trucks but every now and then looking toward the guest room like he was expecting something.

"You like Mr. Eubulon, don't you?" Jerry asked the boy.

He looked up in confusion. "Why do you say that?"

"Well, it's just that you usually stay away from strangers. You ran away from the milk man."

"I guess I just didn't know him yet."

"So why are you so eager to get close to a man we don't even know who he is or where he comes from?"

"He's from real far away," Len said. "Farther than the moon. He's not like us at all, not on the inside."

Jerry stared at him in shock. "Now how do you know that?"

"I just do." The boy went back to his trucks, driving back and forth across the living room floor, and Jerry didn't know what to make of this strange conversation.

For that matter, he and Helene knew very little about this small stranger in their house-who his folks had been, where they had come from. One thing was for sure: this little boy was not like other folks. He was special.

Bill came out of the guest room after about twenty minutes or so, with a strange expression on his face. He drew Jerry aside and asked him, "You have any idea where this man is from? Any idea at all?"

Jerry shook his head. "I thought maybe Japan. He looks Japanese, a bit."

"He's not Japanese, my friend. This man is not **human**."

Jerry stared at him in shock. "What?"

"His heart is where his spleen should be. Took me forever to find it. And his lungs aren't in the right place, either. I don't know what-all he's got inside him, but it's not what's inside you and me. I think you'd better have a long talk with Mister Eubulon, as soon as he's up to it, about where he comes from and what he was doing out behind your barn."

"What are you saying, Bill?" Jerry whispered. "You saying he's some sort of . . . space man, or something?" He thought suddenly of Len's comment that Eubulon was from "farther than the moon", and shuddered. This six-year-old boy might be smarter than any of them.

And yet, the boy wasn't afraid. Eubulon hadn't done anything the least bit threatening or dangerous since he'd been there. Granted, he wasn't in any shape to do much of anything just yet, but Jerry somehow instinctively knew that if this man meant his family harm, he would have shown it somehow.

"You were right about one thing: he's got a world-class case of pneumonia," Bill said. "I'll leave some prescriptions. Lord knows if they'll work on him, but they're the best I have. If he gets worse, or has any sort of reaction or anything, you call me."

"I will," Jerry said.

"Jerry, we've been friends for thirty years. I know you always think the best of people . . . but he isn't people. Just watch yourself, that's all I'm saying."

"Well, thanks for the warning," Jerry said. "Helene, would you mind bringing Bill his coat and hat?"

"Certainly," Helene said, and did just that.

Len was sitting at the piano, running his hands over the keys in the noisy way that young children call "playing" the piano. "Len!" Jerry called to him. "Not now, son. Come say goodbye to Dr. Harper."

The boy slid off the stool and came over. "Is Mr. Eubulon gonna be all right?"

"Well, sure, he will," Bill said, reaching down to ruffle the boy's dark hair, so different from Jerry's wiry red curls or Helene's soft blonde waves. "He'll be right as rain in no time."

"He's not from around here, you know."

"Oh? How do you know that?"

"Can't you tell? He's from out there somewhere. Past the moon, and the stars. So far we can't even see it from here."

"Yes, well, heh heh," Bill chuckled. "What an imagination, huh? You just behave yourself, young man. Stay out of that sickroom if you know what's good for you."

"But I wanna help."

"You can help by staying out of the way and picking up your toys when you're done with them," said Helene, nudging a small wooden fire truck with her foot.

"Sorry." The boy bent down and began picking up the vehicles until his arms were full. He started to put them on the kitchen table, but Helene said, "Put them in your room! And then you can help me set the table."

"Okay," the boy said, and got up to follow her.

The next few days went very quickly. Eubulon spent most of them asleep or taking medicine, which did seem to be working all right on him. He wondered why these people cared so much about him, and if they would still be as eager to help him if they knew what he had planted in their barn, and what it would be used for.

Despite Jerry and Helene's best efforts, Len was in the room every chance he got. One or the other of them would come in and find him sitting there, just holding the man's hand, or talking to him. No matter how many times they shooed him out, he always came back. Helene was worried he would get sick himself, but so far he seemed to be okay.

Then the day came when Eubulon was able to sit up by himself, and take nourishment without help. It was then that Jerry decided the time had come for a long-overdue talk.

"So," he said, "you're from pretty far away."

"Yes."

"You want to tell me where?"

"The name would be meaningless to you."

"Look, you're not in any trouble, are you? Is someone after you?"

"No!" Eubulon's eyes went wide. He hadn't realized that just by being here, he could have put these people in danger.

"We're not gonna hurt you or turn you in or anything. I just want some answers. i want to know what you were doing out behind my barn, and how you got there."

Eubulon decided to tell him a highly edited version of the truth. "I come from a planet called Karsh, very far away from here."

"How'd you get here?"

"We have mastered the art of instantaneous travel."

"What?"

"We can send ourselves anywhere in the universe we need to go, in an instant. I was sent here to . . . to deliver something."

"What? To where?"

He couldn't tell him. If he told Jerry about the beacon, the man would go out to the barn and destroy it, and then Xaviax would come to see why it had stopped working. And that was something that Eubulon wanted to avoid at all costs.

"You wouldn't understand."

"Okay. So you delivered this gizmo or whatever it was, and then what?"

"I was on my way back to the contact point when I became unable to breathe properly. And then I could no longer hold myself up. I lay on the ground, and I must have lost consciousness, because the next thing I knew, you were there with me."

"You have friends waiting for you somewhere?" Jerry asked.

Eubulon didn't know how to answer that. "I was expected to report in," he said. "How long have I been here?"

"It's going on three days now."

"Maybe he's given up on me. In which case, I am alone here."

The look on the alien's face was enough to melt Jerry's heart. "You're not alone," he said. "If you need to, you can stay with us until your friend comes for you."

"Thank you. I owe you more than I could ever repay."

"I need you to answer honestly," Jerry said. "Do your people intend to harm this planet?"

Eubulon thought about his answer carefully before he spoke. "I can honestly tell you," he said, "that we will not harm your people."

But, he wondered, was that the truth? Wouldn't removing them from their natural environment and forcing them to work to rebuild Karsh constitute harm to them? That was a question for the philosophers. Eubulon was a soldier and a scientist, and matters of right and wrong had never come into it.

Until now.

"You don't have some type of space rays aimed at the Earth, do you?" Jerry asked.

Another difficult answer. "We do not intend to destroy you."

"And you're not a scout for an invasion force or anything?"

"No." The closest he had come to an outright lie.

Jerry looked at him skeptically. "Well, all right, if you say so. I'll let you rest up now. We'll talk more about this later."

Eubulon nodded and lay back into the freshly ironed sheets. He hadn't expected to sleep right away, but when he opened his eyes again, it was dark outside. There was no clock in the room, but he could tell by the passing traffic that it wasn't that late at night.

And then he noticed the boy sitting in the chair beside him. "Hello, Len."

"Hi," the boy said in a low voice. "Sorry I bothered you. I'm not supposed to do that."

"You weren't bothering me. I like having you here with me." He reached up and turned the bedside lamp on. It was strange, having to pull a little chain, instead of either pressing a touch pad or using voice control. Clearly this world's technology was several decades, at least, behind his own.

Was that a bad thing? Did that make them mindless savages who were no good for anything but manual labor? Of course not. There were some things that transcended science and technology: family, love, doing the right thing. These were good people. It wouldn't be right to use them as slave labor against their will, just because they were there.

"What are you thinking about?" Len asked him.

"Can you tell?"

"Something sad. Are you thinking of your family? Do you miss them?"

He sat up, settling the pillow against the headboard and propping himself against it. "My family . . . died, long ago."

The boy nodded. "Mine, too. My real parents, that is. I don't even remember them."

"Why do you want to know so much about where I come from?" He wondered if perhaps Jerry had sent the boy in to gather information that couldn't be asked directly.

Len shrugged. "I like you. You're nice, for a space man."

"And how many space men have you met?"

"So far? Just you."

"Then how do you know how nice space men are, if you've never met any?"

"I don't know. I read stories."

"What kind of stories?"

"The one about a trip to the moon. And the Mars books. Have you been to Mars?"

"We passed it, on the way."

"Are there really people there?"

"I don't know. Maybe someday, your people will build space ships and go to Mars, and find out." That was unlikely to happen in this little boy's life time, but stranger things had happened.

"What about the Moon?"

"I saw the Moon. Pictures of it, anyway. It's pretty dry. No people living there."

"Aw, shucks."

He smiled at the boy's obvious disappointment. "Someday, there might be. Your people might go to the moon, too."

"That'd be super neato!"

"Super . . . neato?" What a strange expression. "Is that good?"

"Yeah, really really good! Don't you know anything? You speak our language. Or are you using a translator?"

"I learned your language by monitoring your transmissions. Your radio," he explained. "Most of it was pretty academic. I didn't learn any of the popular expressions yet."

"Stick around. You will."

"Lord, boy, there's no keeping you out of here, is there?" Helene appeared in the doorway, looking annoyed. "I've told you a thousand times to stay out of here and not bother Mr. Eubulon!"

"He said it was okay!"

"Well, I'm saying no! You have chores to do. Let's go!"

Len looked sadly at his new friend. "Sorry."

"You should do what your mother tells you. I'll be fine."

"Okay." The boy left the room. Before Helene could follow, Eubulon said, "Don't be too hard on the boy. He wants to help."

"I know he does, but he's too little."

"Not to sit and talk. He asks all the right questions. How does he know just what to ask me?"

"I have no idea! I've told him not to ask people personal questions like that, but you know how kids are. Tell them not to do something, and it's the first thing they want to do. You have any kids of your own?"

"No," he said, wondering how the word for a juvenile goat came to be applied to a human child. "No, I don't."

"You get on well with him, though."

"He is an . . . interesting personality."

"Yep, that's one way of looking at it. Supper will be ready soon. You feel up to joining us at the table?"

He thought about it. "Not yet. Maybe tomorrow."

"Okay, then. I'll bring you a tray. Be about fifteen, twenty minutes."

"Thank you."

"My pleasure." Although the expression on her face suggested it was anything but. Eubulon hoped he wasn't being a burden on these people. Helene was willing to help, but there was a suggestion that there was only so far she would go, and then he was on his own.

He was feeling stronger every day, but it would still be some time before he would be able to leave this place under his own power. Where he would go from there was still anyone's guess.


	2. The Beginning, part 2

As soon as he was on his feet, Eubulon insisted on helping out with some of the chores around the farm. Jerry told him he didn't have to, not so soon in his recovery, but the alien wanted to earn his keep.

"Of course I'm grateful to you for all you've done," he said, when Helene protested. "You helped me when I needed it most. Now, let me help you."

"All right," she said, "but I don't want you pushing yourself too much your first day out of bed. Just do simple little things for now."

"What do you suggest?"

She pursed her lips and thought about it. "I suppose you could help me hang the washing out. Bring the basket and I'll show you how to do it."

"Basket?"

"Len, show him where the basket is."

The boy hopped down off his perch by the window and led Eubulon to the back of the house. "We do washing on Tuesdays and Saturdays. Sometimes I help."

"I hope I'm not taking your job away from you."

"Uh uh. Helene's gonna teach me how to sew. She says a man should know how to darn socks and sew up a rip in his own trousers, and not have to depend on a wife to do it for him."

"Helene is a smart woman."

"Yeah, she is. I hope I stay here," the boy said, taking one end of the basket.

"Stay here?"

"I get moved around a lot. Four months is my record so far, and it's almost that now. I wonder where they'll put me next?"

"Why wouldn't you stay here? Don't you like your foster parents?"

"It's not about what **I **want," the boy said sadly. "It's about what's best for me. That's what they tell me, anyway." He shook his head and then picked up one end of the basket. Eubulon took the other, and they carried it into the house.

On the way, they passed through the kitchen, where Helene had already laid out a huge spread for lunch. There was pasta and vegetables, glistening platters of fried chicken, and slices of ham and roast beef stacked almost a foot high. It all looked so delicious that he wanted to sneak a bit of everything.

"Don't you touch that!"

"Oh, man!" the boy groaned. "How does she always know?"

Helene came in from the laundry room. "You leave that alone till you've finished your chores!"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Now bring the basket in here, and I'll load it up for you. Be careful bringing it back out; it'll be heavy."

They carried the basket into the small laundry room, and Helene dumped the heavy wet clothes into it one by one. "The clothespins are in the small bin over the sink."

"Can you get them?" Len asked Eubulon. "I can't reach."

"Of course." He then realized that he had no idea what a clothespin was or what it looked like. "Can you tell me when I'm getting close?"

"They're right in the cabinet," Helene said. "They're wooden, not the cheap plastic ones."

Well, that helped. Now he knew he was looking for multiple small wooden objects. His fingers brushed something hard, and he looked down. Holding one up, he asked, "Is this it?"

"That's it," Len said. "Bring the whole thing down. We'll need a lot of them."

Helene was loading up the basket with heavy wet laundry. "Now if you need help with this," she said, "don't hesitate to ask. You're still recovering, and I don't want you to strain yourself."

"Don't worry, I'll be fine." Eubulon picked up the basket. It **was** heavy, but he could manage it for a short distance. Len carried the smaller bin with the clothespins.

"Let me show you how I do this," Helene said, walking with them. She had one hand discreetly under the basket, helping to bear some of the load. "We had a woman who came in and helped with the laundry twice a week, but she was doing it all wrong, and the stuff came out all wrinkled and spotted. Besides that, she was stealing from me."

"Stealing?"

"Not a lot. Little things - a spoon here, a cup there, things she thought wouldn't be missed. She didn't know **me**. I had my eye on her, and as soon as I had proof, I let her go."

"Did you give her a chance to explain herself?" Eubulon asked her.

"I did. She said something about a sick mother. Complete fabrication - I know, because I talked to her mother, and she was fine. I'm willing to give someone the benefit of the doubt, but not when they lie to me."

Eubulon thought of the device that was hidden a few hundred feet away, in the barn, and wondered if failing to tell them about it was considered lying by omission. But it was probably better that they didn't know.

"Now watch me," Helene said, stopping before the clothesline. "I'll show you exactly how I want it hung up. And I will watch you, so don't think you can get away with just doing it any old way. I will know."

"Yes, ma'am." Eubulon watched her as she hung up the first few items in the basket. Len dutifully handed her clothespins when she asked for them. It was his only job, being too short yet to reach the clothesline properly.

"There," she said, when she was finished. "It's that simple. You can do it just like that, can't you?"

"Of course I can."

"Good. I'll be in the house if you need me. Just keep this one out of trouble," she said, giving the boy an affectionate pat on the head.

"I will. I . . . I wanted to thank you for all you've done. For taking me in when you didn't have to, and letting me stay here."

She cocked her head. "That almost sounds like you're planning to leave us."

"I know I'll have to leave some time. By now I've surely been missed. I was supposed to check in weeks ago."

"Don't leave us!" Len begged him. "Can't you just . . . tell them you don't want to go?"

Eubulon could sense the boy's distress, but he had to tell him the truth. "I have responsibilities, where I come from. I can't just walk away."

"Why not?"

He sighed. "You'll understand when you're older."

"What is it you do, anyway?" Helene asked him. "Where you come from?"

"I'm . . . I'm in the military," he said. "I invent things for our army."

"What kind of things?" Len asked.

"Never mind what kind of things," said Helene, who surely knew that he meant weapons. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."

When she was gone, Len asked again, "What things did you make for them?"

"Maybe I'll show you some day," he said. "Let's get started on hanging this up."

"I can pass you stuff, if you want."

"That would be very helpful. Thank you."

The basket was almost empty when Len heard someone coming up the walk. He ran to see who it was.

The man was a stranger, and Len didn't like his eyes. They were the scariest eyes he'd ever seen before. He was too young to understand the concept of evil, but that's what he saw.

Xaviax would not recognize this little boy the next time he saw him, but Len would never forget those cold, dead eyes.

"Hi, there!" the man said, in a falsely cheerful tone. "I'm looking for a man named Eubulon. Is he here, by any chance?"

Len was too frightened to speak. He turned and ran back behind the house in a blind panic.

Eubulon was just hanging the last item in the basket when he saw Len running up to him. "Mister Eubulon!" the boy gasped. "There's a scary man here to see you!"

"A scary man?"

"He has scary eyes. Tell him to go away!"

Eubulon sighed. He had known this day would come. "Can you take me to him, please?"

Len didn't look too happy about that, but he led Eubulon around to the front of the house, where Xaviax was admiring the begonias.

"So this is where you've been hiding yourself all this time," he said, without turning around. Len thought that was creepy.

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to contact you before," Eubulon said. "I've been . . . ill."

"Really? Nothing serious, I hope."

They walked toward the back of the house, the two men side by side and Len struggling to keep up. He didn't trust this scary man, and he didn't want to leave Mister Eubulon alone with him. Bad things might happen.

"Did you do what you came here for?" Xaviax asked.

Eubulon nodded. "It's in the barn."

"What is?" Len asked.

Both men started, as if they'd forgotten the boy was there. "Len, can you bring the basket into the house?" Eubulon asked him. "And tell your mother that I'll be there soon."

Len didn't want to leave them; he knew they wouldn't talk about the scary stuff when he was around. He picked up the basket, dropped the bin of clothespins inside it, and carried both up to the house.

Once they were alone, Eubulon showed his General the device he had planted in a far corner of the barn. "I was able to install it before I . . . lost consciousness," he explained.

"Is it working?"

"It hasn't been activated yet. I was waiting for your order."

"And how long will it take them to be fully charged and ready, once I do give the order?"

"Twenty-four hours, sir."

Xaviax nodded, something he often did to appear that he understood when really he couldn't be bothered with the technical details. "Make it work" was what he always said. He didn't care how.

"Sir," Eubulon said, "are we leaving right now?"

"Hmm? Oh, no. Not yet. I want to wait until they're ready before we leave. You do seem to like it here."

"These people have been very kind to me."

"Hard workers, are they?"

"Yes," Eubulon sighed. He mentally gathered his courage: if ever there was a time to speak up, now would be it. "Sir, may I ask you something?"

"Yes. What?"

"Why these people? Why do you need them to rebuild Karsh?"

"Because, our people need to maintain the planet's defenses. There is no one else."

"With all due respect, sir, why didn't you just take prisoners instead of completely annihilating the Southern army?"

Xaviax gave him a look. "Are you questioning my tactics?"

"Only in hindsight, sir."

"Captured prisoners make lousy slaves. They have no motivation to fight."

"And yet you would kidnap these people, take them from their homes, and force them to work rebuilding a planet they don't even know exists."

"Why, Eubulon," Xaviax said, with a hint of amusement, "I do believe you **care** about these savages!"

"They're not savages, they're good people. Sir."

"You do! You're here a week and it's like they've adopted you. And you, them. This will not do."

"I just don't see why you can't **ask** them to help you rebuild Karsh."

"Look around you! Look beyond this one happy little family and see what the world at large is like!" The general spread his arms out wide. "They're primitives - they're still using vacuum tubes, for Plarg's sake!"

"They could still help us. They don't need our level of technology to perform manual labor."

"The whole planet is divided, made up of tiny city states at war with each other. There's no way we could unite them in a common cause."

"May I remind you, General, that our own planet was once in much the same state?"

"Yes. Before I took over. I did what no politicians and statesmen could ever do - I united the entire world."

"Against itself."

"You're slipping dangerously close to treason, Eubulon." Xaviax looked at him like he was of questionable mental integrity. "I will return in twenty-four hours. You have that long to get rid of these notions of uniting these people for the common good. The only uniting they'll do is for **my** good. I intend to go through with this plan . . . with, or without you."

Xaviax pressed a button on his belt, and vanished.

Regretfully, Eubulon walked up to the house. It was time now to tell his friends (and he realized, they were his friends, perhaps the only ones he had) what this was all about.

Len had been watching the whole time, his nose pressed to the window that overlooked the back yard. He couldn't hear anything, but he could tell from watching the two men that it was a very animated and angry conversation.

He just wished he knew what it was about.

When Eubulon came in the back door, Len rushed up to him. "Who was that man? Why was he here? What's in our barn?"

"Where's your father?"

"He doesn't get home till six."

"I'll wait till he's here. I have something to tell all of you . . . and it won't be pleasant."

"Is something wrong?" Helene came into the room, wiping her hands on her apron. "Why do you want to talk to Jerry?"

"Mrs. Duval . . . Helene. Your husband has known, or at least suspected, all along that I wasn't here by accident. I am not an alien invader . . . but I do work for one."

"I knew he was bad, I just knew it," Len said, a tremble in his voice. "Where's his spaceship?"

"It's orbiting the planet right now," Eubulon said. "I need to show you something."

Jerry was just pulling up as Eubulon led the rest of the family outside to see what was in the barn.

"What's going on?" he asked. One look at Len's terrified face told him more than he needed to know. "Are we in danger?"

"You are," Eubulon said. "But I think I can stop it."

What Jerry saw next just completely blew his mind. It was about the size of a milking jar, one of the big five-gallon ones, but it was all hooked up with wires and circuitry like-

"A bomb? Is that what it is?"

"No, it's not a bomb. It's a teleportation device. When it's activated, it will work along with the other ones all over the planet, to transport the entire population to . . . to our home world."

"What for?" Helene asked. "What are they planning to do with us?"

Eubulon explained about Xaviax's plan to relocate the people of Ventara to Karsh, to rebuild the war-ravaged planet. The thought of sending this child up against Xaviax was horrifying, to say the least, but with the proper training . . .

But training would take time. Time he didn't have, unless his idea worked. He'd have to get to work right away.

"I suppose we should eat supper before we have to go," Helene said. "Are you sure about not packing anything?"

"Don't make it look like you're going on a long trip," Eubulon said. "For all we know, he's watching us right now. We don't want to arouse any suspicion if you're seen packing up everything you own. He'll know that I warned you."

"Just pretend we're visiting Aunt Mabel, right?" Jerry asked. "Can I help you with that . . . whatever it is?"

"I don't - well, I suppose you could."

"I want to help, too!" Len exclaimed.

"There is something you can do, Len. I'll show you after supper, before we get started on our project. It's very simple, and it's even fun, if it helps to think of it that way. You'll like it."

"What? What is it?"

"You'll see."

With that, they went into the house, where they ate a very tension-filled dinner. Despite the burden of all that he would have to do now, in so short a time, Eubulon felt relieved that he'd finally told the Duvals what he had done. It was very liberating, confession. Now he didn't have to worry about one of them finding the device by accident.

He still hadn't told them the whole truth, though: he'd built the device, and the others like it, for the power-hungry tyrant he had once served, and now must find a way to stop, or this entire world was doomed.

"What did you want to show me?" Len asked, once the dishes had been cleared away.

"Come outside with me," Eubulon said. "You can do it inside, but I like having a lot of open space to practice."

"Practice what?"

"They're exercises. Mostly stretching, but they're the foundation for more advanced moves you'll learn later, if what I'm planning works. I'll run through the moves slowly while you watch, and then you can try them yourself."

"Okay."

Eubulon reached deep within himself to find that place of calm and contentment. It took a few minutes, because of all that had happened today, but once he had set aside the distractions and moved deep inside, he stood in Neutral Form, hands at his sides, feet a short distance apart, head straight and back aligned.

"They're called the Seven Forms," he explained. "It's a kind of moving meditation. This is the starting position."

Len, sitting cross-legged on the ground, nodded. "It's like in my karate classes," he said. "Focus and discipline."

"And how long have you taken karate?"

"About a month. But I'm really good. The teacher said so."

Eubulon was surprised, and secretly pleased. This might work out better than he thought. "Now, watch what I do to move into First Form."

He went through all seven, explaining what each represented and how to move from one pose to the next. Len watched, taking it all in.

"Now it's your turn," he said. "You come stand next to me here, and do it along with me."

Len got up and came to stand right next to the man.

"Why don't you move over a little bit, so you have room to stretch out?"

"Oh, okay." He shuffled a few feet to the right, giving them a decent amount of space between them.

"Now, begin in Neutral Form. Keep everything relaxed, but not too loose. Be ready to move into First Form."

The boy looked over, noted the position of Eubulon's arms and legs, and made some adjustments to his own form.

"Good. Now step out like this . . ."

Helene was supposed to be packing for the trip, but she had to come out and see what they were doing. It looked like some sort of stretching exercises. She didn't see how that would help fight off this evil man, but she supposed Eubulon knew what he was doing. She went back in and finished loading the family's things into a battered old suitcase. She knew she wasn't supposed to pack more than they could carry, but surely two changes of clothing and a few priceless keepsakes would be all right, wouldn't they?

Jerry, carrying his loaded toolbox, passed her in the hall. "Any idea where we're going?"

"Probably a motel, for the night, and then we can figure it out in the morning. What are you planning to do with those?"

"Help, if I can. I don't know, Hel. I've worked on shortwave radios my whole life, and I've never seen anything like that gizmo. What do you suppose it's made of?"

"I have no idea," she said. "What makes you think you can do anything with it, other than hit it with a hammer?"

"Maybe hitting it with a hammer will break it. I doubt it, though. Thing looks pretty well-made."

"Did you see what that man and Len are doing out in the back there?"

"No. What?"

"Some kind of stretching exercises, looks like."

"What's it for?"

"Beats me. I'll go put this in the car. You have your keys?"

"You have a key to that car."

"I can never find it."

"You'd better. We don't want to leave something like that behind."

Helene looked at him with the shadow of tears in her eyes. "Are we not coming back here, then?"

"Not for a while, it sounds like."

"But . . . not ever?"

"I don't know. I wish I did. I'll have to go to the bank first thing in the morning and get some money."

"Won't that seem suspicious, if we withdraw all our cash?"

"Not all of it. Just enough to live on for a few weeks. I won't be able to go back to work until this is all over . . . if it ever is."

"What have we gotten ourselves into?" she asked, and began to cry. He reached out and pulled her to him, running a hand through her hair.

"Ssh, ssh. It'll be all right. This is just temporary. We'll be fine, I promise."

"How can you know?" Her voice was muffled against his shirt.

"Eubulon knows what he's doing. We can trust him."

She pulled away and looked at him. "Can we? He didn't tell us about that thing until it was too late. What else hasn't he told us?"

"I'm sure everything's fine."

"Fine? Right now there is an alien warship circling the planet! For all we know, it has lasers or phasers or whatever targeted on us right now! How can you say that everything's fine?"

"Hel, we'll get through this. No matter how bad it gets, as long as we stay together, we'll be okay."

"If you say so." But she didn't sound convinced. She took the keys from him and went to put the suitcase in the car.

* * *

"Now I want you to practice this every day," Eubulon said to Len as they finished the sequence. "You'll get better at it."

"I don't want to go," the boy said.

"I know you don't, but it's the only way you'll be safe."

"What about you? You can't fight the bad man all by yourself! I can help!"

"Not yet. I know you want to help me, but you're still too little."

Len sat down on the grass and pouted. "I wish I wasn't little," he grumbled. "I want to help!"

Eubulon had to smile at that. "You'll be grown up soon enough. For now, I need you to keep practicing, and do what your parents tell you. I'll send for you as soon as I can. But first, I have a lot of work to do."

He'd had an idea, during their practice, that just might work. It wouldn't completely destroy the teleporters, but it would disable them for long enough for the second part of Eubulon's plan to be put into action. Xaviax wouldn't know what hit him.

"You can go now," he said to Len. "Remember what I told you."

The boy nodded gravely, and then he ran up and gave Eubulon a sudden, impulsive hug. "I'll miss you."

"And I'll miss you too, Len. But hopefully we'll see each other again soon. Now go help your mother."

"She doesn't want to go either," he said. "She's scared."

Eubulon looked at this little boy who knew so much about other people. "You have extraordinary empathy," he said, "and intuition."

Len looked shocked, then guilty. "I'm sorry! I'll put them back!"

The man laughed. "No, I meant that you know what people are feeling, and you want to help them."

"Yeah, I do."

"The most help you can be right now is just to stay with them. Do what you're told, and keep your eyes open. And stay safe. Don't go anywhere by yourself. He knows what you look like, and he may try to use you to get to me. Don't let anyone get you alone. This is very important."

"Yes, sir, I won't." He looked so serious that Eubulon felt guilty for coming into this family's life, and robbing this boy of his childhood.

"Go on, now. I have a lot to do."

Len turned and went into the house, giving Eubulon one last look over his shoulder. Eubulon waved, and then went into the barn, where Jerry was waiting with his toolbox.

"Okay, what do you want me to do? I don't know the first thing about this whatever it is."

"I do. I built it."

Jerry stared at him. "You built it? For that monster?"

"Yes. I was captured in the early days of the war, and forced to create weapons for the Northern Army. I built it, and I know how to disable it. Now what I need you to do is . . ."

Jerry listened, still trying to process what he had learned. Helene had been right about this man having more secrets. He wondered how much more there was to this, and what they would never know.

"Hold this like that," Eubulon said. "I'll adjust the frangulator-" Or whatever it was. Jerry didn't understand a single thing about this gizmo. It wasn't like working on motorcycles in the garage. This was alien technology, he reminded himself. Imagine what would happen if this world's military got hold of this stuff. Armageddon, probably.

He put those thoughts out of his mind and focused on following the directions he had been given. This man - alien, he corrected himself - had never done anything to hurt them, never given them a reason not to trust him. They needed to trust him now. Their lives might depend on it.

Helene was waiting by the back door. She'd loaded the suitcase in the car, and was about to gather up the last odds and ends when Len came running in.

"Don't slam the screen door!"

"Sorry."

She looked at him. He seemed different, somehow, but she couldn't say exactly why. "Grab anything you want to take. We're leaving shortly."

"Okay." He couldn't really think of anything he wanted to take with him, but he put a few toys and his photo album into his backpack, thought about it, packed his blanket and a little car Jerry had made for him, and then zipped it up and went back to Helene, who was looking around deciding whether or not to take anything else.

"You ready now?"

He nodded.

"Good. Go get in the car. I'll just run and tell your father we're ready to go."

"Okay." He slung his backpack over one shoulder and went out to the car. The back door was unlocked, so he opened it and took his usual seat, strapping himself in. He hoped they wouldn't be too long. If they were going to leave, they should just go, and not drag it out like this. That only made it worse.

* * *

By now Jerry had long since given up asking what Eubulon was doing. He sat and watched as the alien worked on the device, adjusting this, removing that, and doing other things he couldn't even begin to understand.

Finally he took a long, thin object and inserted it into a hole on the front of the teleporter.

"What's that?" Jerry asked.

"This," said Eubulon, "is the virus. Once it's uploaded into the system, it will spread to the other units, and eventually shut them all down."

"I hope so."

Helene called out from the doorway. "We're ready to go."

"I'll be right there." Jerry took out his keys and started to work his house key off the ring, but Eubulon stopped him.

"You might need that again," he said. "Is there a spare key?"

"Under the flower pot, by the mat. Be sure and put it back."

They stood and stared at each other for a moment. This was going to be hard.

"I never meant to put you in danger," Eubulon said. "And I'm grateful to you for all you've done for me."

"You're sure this will work?"

"Xaviax is not . . . technically minded. That's why he needed me. He may figure this out . . . in ten years or so."

"What will you do then?"

"I have a plan. I need to present it to the leaders of this world. Do you know where I can find them?"

"Gee, I'm not sure. You might want to start with the county authorities, and work your way up."

"I'll do that."

There was another awkward silence.

"Well, I guess we'd better go now," Jerry said. "Be sure to lock up when you leave."

"I will. You be safe, now." The two shook hands, and then Jerry turned his back on his home, wondering if he'd ever see it again.

* * *

Xaviax was actually early, which wasn't like him. Eubulon was waiting for him by the barn.

"It is ready," he said, "just as you asked."

"Excellent." He didn't ask to see it, which was typical of him. He trusted his people to get things done.

This was one time he should have checked for himself.

"We'll return to the ship," the general continued, "and begin the countdown."

"I prefer to stay here," Eubulon said.

"You know that once the teleporters are activated, you'll be transported along with the natives, don't you?"

"I'll deal with that when it comes."

Xaviax shrugged. "Very well. Enjoy your brief stay on this pitiful ball of rock." Then he was gone, in a flash of light.

Eubulon waited a suitable interval, and then he went and locked up the house. He probably wouldn't be coming back here. He made sure to put the key back under the flower pot, and then he began walking towards the main road.

Presently a car came along, slowing when it passed him. It stopped a few feet away.

"Need a ride?" the driver called.

"Yes," Eubulon said. "Could you take me to the sheriff's office, please?"

"You're not in trouble, are you?"

He looked up. "If I don't speak to them soon," he said, "we'll all be in trouble."

"Well, get in, then. I'll take you."

He opened the door and climbed into the car, already planning what he was going to say to the authorities. What he needed was to set up some kind of a training program, for Len and the others like him. How many would he need? A good-sized group, but not so many that he couldn't manage them. Twelve was a good number. Eventually they would be outfitted in a modification of the armor he had designed for the army, with weapons the likes of which this planet had never seen before.

There would be war, he knew, but if he got everything he needed, they would win.

* * *

"The fools," Xaviax said.

He was in the control room of his massive floating warship, high above the surface of the planet. All that he needed to do was to start the countdown, and the teleportation beacons would instantaneously transport all the people of Ventara, the deserter included, to Karsh, to begin the rebuilding.

He smiled as he thought of Eubulon and his unnatural attachment to these creatures. Xaviax knew nothing of this thing called love. He kept someone around if they were useful to him, disposed of them if he didn't need them any longer.

"Begin the activation sequence," he ordered one of his minions. He liked the minions, creatures based on various beasts who had minimal brain power and were essentially disposable. When one was used up, he'd just create another. So much better than intelligent soldiers who argued with him.

He sat in his favorite chair and closed his eyes, listening to the countdown. In a matter of minutes, all the people of Ventara would be his. Thirty seconds . . . twenty . . . fifteen . . . ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five-

All of a sudden, the entire system crashed. A message flashed on the screens around him: SYSTEM FAILURE - ABORTING.

"Noooo!" Xaviax pressed every button he could reach, but it was too late. Everything was down.

"Eubulon," he growled. "What did you do? What did you **do**?"

This wasn't over, he vowed. Somehow, he would fix this. As far as he could tell, the beacons were still standing; they just weren't functioning at the moment. If it took him ten years, or even longer, he would find out what the traitor had done, and reverse it.

"I'll have you yet," he said, as the minions tried to clear away the smoke. "You will be mine. Do you hear me? Mine!"

But in his head, Xaviax could hear Eubulon laughing at him.


	3. First Day

Someone was sitting on my chest.

I opened my eyes slowly, not quite sure of where I was yet, and all I could see was grey. I wondered what was wrong with my vision, and then the grey pulled back and I saw it was Chance, leaning over me.

"See, I told you," he said to someone I couldn't see yet. "Signs of life."

I sat up and looked around. For a moment I didn't recognize anything, but then I saw my little dragon on the dresser and I remembered. The Kamen Rider base. This was my assessment weekend, and I was staying over.

"You'd better get moving," someone said, and as my eyes adjusted I realized that the other person was Len. "Master Eubulon wants to see you in the small dojo right away, for your one on one. Then we're all going for a run."

"Great," I muttered. I've never been good at endurance exercise. I can do short bursts, but I've never managed more than a few hundred yards without having to stop and catch my breath.

"Don't worry," Chance said. "It's a short one. Only five miles."

**Only? **That was about four and a half miles longer than I had ever run in my life. I'd never make it.

"Hurry up and get dressed," Len said. "Top drawer, left side."

As soon as they were gone, I looked in the drawer. There was a pair of gym shorts and a T-shirt, both grey. I threw them on and hurried to the gym level to meet Master Eubulon.

We have three gyms: the large dojo, where the main practice takes place; the smaller one, for one-on-one sparring and meditation; and the state-of-the-art weight room. There's also a sauna, a lap pool, and a really nice Jacuzzi. I guess there are some perks to having saved the planet.

The others were all in the large dojo, warming up. I still hadn't learned all the names yet, so I just waved on my way through to the smaller room where Master Eubulon waited for me. Better get this over with now.

He was sitting on the floor, eyes closed. I thought he was deep in meditation, but as soon as I came in, he said, "Kit. Good. Sit down and we'll begin."

I pulled up a mat and sat facing him.

"You know why you're here, right?"

I nodded. "So you can assess my fighting skills and know where to start training me."

"You've done very well, so far. I watched you in battle, holding your own alongside those who have trained since childhood. The assessment will help to find those areas in which you need special attention. We'll begin whenever you're ready."

"Um, I didn't bring my deck."

"You won't need it."

I was really nervous about the test. I never was very good at taking tests, even when I'd studied like a fiend beforehand.

"This is not a test you can fail," Master Eubulon said. "It is simply a way for me to know where you need the most help."

"Probably everything," I said.

He smiled. "Don't be so sure. You might surprise yourself. Shall we begin?"

"Yeah, I . . . guess so."

We stood, bowed to each other, and began.

I found that I did better if I didn't **think **about what I was doing, but just **did **it. It was like my body knew how to punch and block and kick and duck, all on its own.

After a while, Master Eubulon stopped and said, "Enough!"

I slumped to the mat, all the strength going out of my muscles. It had been every bit as hard as I had thought it would be.

"You did very well," Master Eubulon said. "Tell me, did you have any formal instruction before you picked up your deck?"

"No," I said.

"So much the better. You don't have anything to unlearn. It's so much easier to write upon a blank slate than to have to erase a lifetime of bad habits. That's why the others were brought in so young."

I nodded as if I knew what he was talking about.

"You and I will have special, individualized training sessions, three days a week, until your skills are brought up to where they need to be. This is in addition to the daily practices with the others."

"That's a lot of work," I said. "But I can do it."

"I know you can. Kit . . . it would be so much easier if you were living here full-time. Are you sure you want to keep going back and forth all the time?"

"My dad . . . I just got him back. We have so much to catch up on first. I'm just not ready yet."

He nodded. "Very well. I don't question your commitment. I'm just trying to save you the trouble."

"It's no trouble," I said. "I'll be there when you need me."

"I know," he said. "Now go and join the others. You've got a five-mile run ahead of you."

I groaned, but inwardly. Five miles was hard enough; on top of the workout I'd just had, it might finish me off.

But I wasn't about to wimp out now. Not when I was just getting started.

I stood, bowed to Master Eubulon, and went to join the others.

Five miles later, I staggered into the Common Room and collapsed onto the floor.

"Well, that wasn't so bad, was it?" said Kase.

"Unh," was the only sound I was able to make. My lungs were as exhausted as the rest of me.

"You're lucky," said Quinn. "We didn't have to do it with ten-pound packs on our backs."

I groaned again and rolled over onto my back.

"It'll get easier," Len said. "Trust me."

_Easy for you to say, _I thought. _You've been doing this since you were seven years old._

"Okay! Who's ready for breakfast?" asked Chance.

I blinked. "Time 'z'it?" I grunted.

"Almost nine. Think you can make it to the dining hall, or do you need a stretcher?"

"Gimme a min'te." I couldn't believe it was still so early. It felt like the middle of the afternoon. I had done more physical activity in a few hours than I managed in a week.

Slowly I rolled over on my side, rocked up onto my knees, and got up.

See, this wasn't so bad after all.

"Then after breakfast," Chance continued, "we can get in a **real **workout."

_Great. My first day, and already they're trying to kill me._

By lunch time, I was beginning to wonder if I would live to see my second day. I was already hurting from all the pounding I had taken, and the two painkillers I'd taken had only managed to bring it down from screaming agony to an all-over ache that I knew would be ten times worse tomorrow.

"I remember my first day," Kase said. "When I arrived it was too late in the afternoon to do anything."

"Except have a tea party," Len interrupted.

"There's always time for tea parties," she said. "Anyway, I didn't start my real training until the next morning. That was when I met Master Eubulon."

* * *

To be honest (she said), I didn't know what to expect. I wasn't really sure why I was here. But I was told to be in such-and-such a room at such-and-such a time, and I always did what I was told.

When I got there, I found I was not alone. Len was already there waiting for me. Or with me, as it turned out. He didn't look too happy to be up this early in the morning.

"Why do they need us at this hour? The sun isn't even up yet!"

"Maybe we're going to watch the sunrise."

"Seen it," he said. "It's really not that great."

"Can't you be happy about **anything**?" I asked him.

"Not this early." He sat back and closed his eyes.

"Len, I'm disappointed in you. I thought you liked our morning exercises."

Len's eyes flew open and he stared up at the man who had just entered the room. "Mister Eubulon! I didn't know **you **were gonna be here!"

"Of course I'm here! I told you I'd send for you as soon as I could. You were the first one I asked for. How are you enjoying my little training school?"

Len was looking up at him like the man was God or something. "I wish you'd told me this was **your **school! I thought I was gonna hate it here."

"I see you've already made a friend. How are you, Kase?" he said, looking down at me.

"How do you know my name?" I asked.

"I read your file. I was very impressed by your interview. You won't let others dictate to you; you prefer to go at your own pace. I like that. We'll get to the real work as soon as we can, but today I want to begin with the basics. Len knows what I'm talking about."

"It's real easy," he said. "Except it's not. You have to see it to understand. When do we start? Right now?"

Eubulon smiled. "I thought we'd go outside to the courtyard, so we can watch the sun rise."

I gave Len a pointed look, but he missed it. He was already halfway to the door that led outside. "C'mon! You don't wanna miss this!"

"Walk with me, Kase," Eubulon said. I fell into step beside him. He was deliberately slowing his steps to keep from getting too far ahead of me. "Do you have any questions, so far?"

"Where are all the other students?" I asked.

"They will be here. I have operatives all over the country, looking for the best and the brightest. There are certain tests they have to pass, like the tests you took. How did you find them?"

"They were pretty easy," I said, although I had had trouble with some of the science stuff. But, apparently, I had done well enough to pass. I was here, wasn't I?

"I'm glad you think so. You were one of only seven girls who passed, you know."

"Why? Girls are just as smart as boys!"

"Of course they are. But the tests are looking for a certain type of personality, and the criteria tend to skew more towards males than females-"

"What?" I asked.

He gave me an embarrassed smile. "I'm sorry, I forget I'm dealing with children sometimes. The things that we're looking for, it turns out that more boys tend to have them than girls. You're not worried about having no one to talk to, are you?"

"No." I had one friend here, and I was sure I would have more, just as soon as I met the other kids.

By now we had made it out to the courtyard, where Len was waiting for us, doing a series of what looked like stretching exercises. They looked almost like the ones I used to do in ballet class, and after watching him for a minute or so, I joined in. It was easy, just as he had said.

"When you're ready," Eubulon said, "we can begin."

Begin? Begin what? I thought this was it! "What do you mean, begin?" I asked.

He waited for us to come to a neutral position before explaining. "What I'm going to teach you is called the Seven Forms. It is the foundation of all you will be learning here. The moves are similar to many other disciplines, like yoga or tai chi, but precision and focus are key to completing the forms correctly."

He was starting to confuse me with the long words again, and he must have seen it on my face. "We'll start with the Neutral Form. Stand straight up with your arms at your sides and your feet a little bit apart. Just like that, that's good. Keep your back straight and your knees slightly bent. You don't want to be tensing anything or forcing anything at this point."

This was easy! I could do this! I looked over and saw that Len was already in the position, and I copied him. So far, so good.

"Now, for First Form. Keeping your arms straight, lift them up from your sides until they're parallel to the ground. Straight out from your shoulders, like this." He demonstrated. "At the same time, turn your feet out slightly, but don't move them yet."

I was an expert at turning my feet out slightly! Doing it while keeping my arms up, though, was harder than I thought; they kept drooping. Master Eubulon came up behind me and lifted them into position.

"Good. Now, in Second Form, you bend your right leg, and then slide your left leg out like this, turning your toes all the way out. Then, turn your head to follow your feet."

I was doing it! I was really doing it!

Then I overbalanced and fell into the grass. Len helped me up. "It's okay if you fall," he said. "Sometimes you have to fall before you can learn not to."

"Do you ever fall?" I asked him.

"I used to. But I've been practicing all summer. Every morning, for a whole hour. Just like I promised," he said, looking over to Master Eubulon, who nodded.

"I thought you just got here, too," I said.

"I did."

"Len and I met at his family's home," Eubulon explained. "Before I knew there was going to be a Training School. So don't feel that he has an unfair advantage, or that I'll favor him over any other student."

"Okay," I said.

We went through the Forms one by one, and I did okay on most of them. The Fifth Form involved lifting my leg up behind me and stretching out my arm, like an Arabesque. Unfortunately, the Arabesque is one of those moves I never quite learned to master before I left ballet class. In other words . . . I fell on my butt.

"That's a hard one," Len said, as he helped me up. "It takes a lot of balance."

"I've got balance," I said.

"I think you need more, though."

I wanted to say something snarky to him. But then I saw the way Master Eubulon was watching us, and I realized that Len was just trying to help. It wasn't his fault that he'd been practicing longer than I had.

"Maybe you're right," I said. "What's the next one?"

We went through all seven, and then took a break. All of a sudden I noticed that the light was different. I looked up, and noticed that the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon. It turned the sky a pretty pinkish-orange color, and I was glad I was there to see it.

"Gee," Len said. "That **is **pretty. Maybe this was worth seeing after all."

"There is beauty all around you," Master Eubulon said, "if you know where to look for it. There are so many beautiful things on this world. It would be a shame to lose them without getting to see them all."

"What do you mean, this world?" I asked.

"Mister Eubulon's from another planet," Len said. "A long, long way from here. He came here to fight a war, but he changed his mind. That's why we're here."

"That's not quite true," Master Eubulon said. "There's a lot more to it. Someday, I'll tell you the whole story. But I wouldn't want to distract you from this lovely sunrise."

"Oh. Right." I watched as the pink-orange streaks in the sky turned gold. Len was sitting beside me, and he reached over and put his hand in mine. And I didn't even mind.

When the lower edge of the sun had cleared the horizon, Master Eubulon turned to us and said, "I think it's time we went in for breakfast now. We'll come outside again later for more practice."

"Thank you for the sunrise," I said, as if he had personally made it.

"There will be many sunrises," he said, "and sunsets. There is much to be done before you are ready to do what you came here for. We will talk about that some time, but for now . . . I'm hungry. Are you?"

"I'm hungry," Len said. He stood up, and only then realized that he was still holding my hand. With an embarrassed grin, he let go. "Come on, Kase. Then maybe later, we'll practice some more."

"You think you can get me standing on one leg by dinner time?" I teased him.

He shrugged. "Maybe. I dunno. If you do, I'll let you have my dessert."

* * *

"I learned many things that day," Kase said. "How to appreciate a sunrise. That I was stronger than I thought, but that I couldn't do everything at once. That things aren't always what they seem."

"What I want to know is," I asked, "did you get Len's dessert?"

Both of them laughed. "No," Kase said. "But I did eventually master Fifth Form. Anything is possible, if you practice enough."

"Any more practicing will kill me," I said.

She biffed me right in the one part of my body that didn't hurt. "Oh, stop it. You're fine."

"Not if you keep doing that."

Cam came over and joined us. "You're talking about first days?" he asked. "Nobody had a worse first day than me."

"Worse than this?"

"I spent the whole of my first day with my head in the toilet."

"That doesn't sound like a lot of fun," I admitted.

* * *

I told my uncle those breakfast sausages we ate at the train station tasted a little off. "Eat them," was all he said. "For what I'm paying for this, you'd better finish every crumb."

By the time I was on the train, I knew that had been a mistake, but it was too late to do anything about it. And when I got to the school, I was really feeling sick. I asked someone where the bathroom was, and they directed me to the closest one. Good thing, because I just barely made it.

I spent pretty much the whole morning and most of the afternoon in the bathroom, resting on the floor in between heaves. I hadn't locked the door, but every time I saw the knob turning, I called out, "I'm in here!"

"Oh, sorry." And whoever it was went away.

It was some time before anyone actually found me. I was lying there, waiting for the next round to begin, when I heard the door knob turning. I was too weak to even call out and warn them away.

"Someone in here?" a voice said.

I just groaned.

"Oh, my God, are you okay?"

I looked up to find a man standing over me. "No," I moaned, and then I threw up on his boots.

I expected him to be mad, but he wasn't. "Oh, you poor kid. Have you been here all day?"

I nodded. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it. I'll bring you down to the infirmary. Then I'll let Master Eubulon know where you are. You're not Cameron Phillips, are you?"

"Yes," I said, wondering how he knew.

"We weren't sure if you were coming or not. Someone mentioned that you got off the train, but no one had seen you since then. We thought you might have taken off."

"Why would I do that?"

"Some kids get here and decide they don't want to stay. Some hang around for a few days and then find it too hard, and leave. I've been here for almost eight years, and I've seen a lot of classmates come and go. I hope you're one of the ones who stays." He reached down and helped me up. Good thing, cause I was so weak I couldn't have managed it on my own.

"How far is it to the infirmary?" I asked. "It's not upstairs, is it? I don't think I could make it up stairs right now."

"No, it's on this level. It's not far at all. I'll help you." He put his arm around my shoulders to help hold me up. "By the way, my name's Len."

"Are you a teacher?"

He smiled and shook his head. "No, I'm a student, just like you."

"But you said you've been here for eight years."

"That's right. I was seven years old when I came here. I almost didn't stay."

"What changed your mind?"

"Master Eubulon. You'll meet him, when you're feeling better. He'll explain everything to you."

Len brought me to the infirmary, a big white room full of state of the art medical equipment.

The nurse on duty took my vital signs, listened as I told her how I'd been throwing up all day, and finally gave me something white in a tall glass to drink.

"This should help you feel better," she said. "Do you want to stay here and rest, or do you want to go back to your room?"

"I don't even know where my room is."

"I can take you there," Len said. "When you're ready."

"Okay." I lay down and waited for the churning in my stomach to stop. The nurse left the room for a few minutes, but Len stayed with me.

"Could I try something?" he asked. "I don't know if this will work, but it's got to be worth a try."

"Sure." I didn't think it could make me feel any worse.

Len put his hands on my stomach. "If I'm pressing too hard, tell me. I've only done this a few times, and I don't want to hurt you."

"So far, so good."

He closed his eyes and pressed down a little, but it didn't really hurt. I wondered what he was trying to do.

After a few minutes, he removed his hands, opened his eyes, and said, "I didn't think it would work. It doesn't always work on bacteriologicals."

"What?"

"Germs."

"What doesn't work? What were you trying to do?"

"Never mind." He shook his head. "I'll just wait here till you're ready." He sat in a chair and folded his hands in his lap.

I hated to keep him waiting, without so much as a book to read, so I just lay there for a little while, until I started to feel a bit better, and then I told him he could take me to my room now.

"Your roommate hasn't arrived yet," he said. "You don't mind being by yourself for now, do you?"

I shook my head.

"Well, if you need anything, I'm the third door down on the right. Or ask anyone, really."

I nodded.

"I'll see you tomorrow. I hope you're feeling better then." He turned off the light and closed the door.

Even though it was only about four o'clock in the afternoon, I was feeling sleepy. Must have been the medicine the nurse gave me. I didn't wake up till the next morning.

Len came in to check on me about six o'clock. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," I said. My stomach was behaving itself, and I thought I might even be able to eat something for breakfast.

"Good. Master Eubulon wants to see you right away. If you're sure you're up for this."

"Up for what?" I asked.

"He wants to test your fighting skills and see how good you are. Get dressed and I'll take you to him."

I didn't like the sound of that. My skills, such as they were, probably wouldn't pass this test. I could take an engine apart and put it back together blindfolded, but as for fighting, I hadn't done much of that.

But I went with Len, because I wanted to get this over with. As my aunt always said, do the hardest thing first. Although I wasn't sure that the rest of the training would be any easier than this.

I wondered if I'd ever see her again.

As I accompanied Len to the small room where the training master waited for me, I was sure I was going to turn out to be the worst student in the whole school. I hadn't had much in the way of training, but I was at the top of my class. It was a very small class, though: me, and one other student. So it was really no big honor.

When we got there, we found a man in a black shirt and pants sitting on the floor, in deep meditation.

"Master?" Len said softly. "He's here."

The man opened his eyes. "Cameron?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Have a seat. Len, you can go. Thank you very much."

Len bowed and left the room. I sat down and tucked my legs under me.

"I'm glad to see you're feeling better. I was very upset to hear that you were ill yesterday. I wish you could have gotten off to a better start here."

"Me, too," I said. "Did I miss much?"

"No, not really. Mostly just the assessment and a few things at orientation. We can go over it right now, if you want."

"I'd like to go ahead and get this out of the way first, please, sir."

He smiled. "You want to take care of business first, right?"

"I just don't want to have this hanging over my head another day. I want to find out how bad I am right now."

"Who said you were bad?"

"Nobody had to. I know I'm not up to where some of the kids are-"

"Cam," he said. "Don't worry about anyone else. You just do the best you can do, and we'll go from there."

We stood up, bowed to each other, and began.

It was awful. Everything I tried to do, he saw coming. I couldn't sneak anything past him. And I never saw his attacks coming. By the end of the session, I was all out of breath, and every part of me ached.

"I'm sorry, sir," I said, as I sat down, my legs unable to hold me any longer.

"What for? You did what you could do. If anyone's at fault, it's me. I should have given you another day to recover before asking so much of you. Do you need any help getting back to your room?"

"Did I fail the test?" I asked.

He smiled at that. "No, of course not. Were you expecting to beat me?"

"I guess not," I said.

"You did very well, under the circumstances. Now, when you're ready, I'd like to show you something."

"What?" I asked.

"I hear you're good with machines."

"Yes, sir?"

"Especially motorcycles."

"Sir?"

He stood and offered me his hand. "Are you ready to come with me now, Cam? Or should I give you another few minutes?"

My curiosity was aroused. I took the outstretched hand and got up, slowly. "Show me, please."

"All right, then."

We left the practice room, and went down the hall, across to the other side of the building, down two levels, and then outside. From what I could tell, we were at the back of the main building, moving towards a smaller building on the grounds. I had seen it, briefly, when we arrived, and had wondered what it was. But only briefly; I had more pressing concerns, remember.

"You ready?" he said, his hand on the door.

I nodded.

He pulled the door open and motioned for me to go in first. I took two steps inside the room . . . and stopped.

I was looking at one huge space, lined with motorcycles on either side. At the far end was a wall with floor-to-ceiling bins filled with parts. There were several work tables at the corners of the room, and on one of them, a bike was partially disassembled.

It was like a dream come true.

"What do you think?" Master Eubulon asked me.

I stared up at him in shock. "Is this - whose is this?"

"It's yours, if you want it. I'll be happy to supervise you until you're old enough to handle it yourself."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Before I knew what I was doing, I threw my arms around him and buried my head somewhere around pocket level.

"Ahem."

I pulled back, ashamed of my display of emotion. "I'm sorry. Sir."

"Don't be sorry. I'm always glad to see so much enthusiasm. Why don't we get started now?"

"All right!" I raced for the closest work table and began laying stuff out.

My first day was horrible. But my second . . . that was pretty cool.

* * *

"So hang in there," he finished. "Or you'll never get to see the really cool stuff."

"I guess you're right," I said. "Thanks, guys. I do feel better now."

"Good," said Len. "It's time for the afternoon practice session."

I stared at him. "You can't be serious."

"This is what we do. I know it seems like a lot now, but it'll get easier. You just have to keep up."

"I'll try," I promised.

He smiled. "I know you will. You wouldn't be here if you couldn't do it."

"Just give me a minute," I said. "Then I'll be ready to go."

"That's the spirit!"

For the first time, I felt like I really belonged. I knew everything was gonna be okay. I had people watching out for me, and their faith in me gave me strength.

I was a real Rider at last.


	4. What a Difference

Where is my little boy?

What happened to that kid who used to wake me up early on a Saturday morning by bouncing a ball off my chest? "Come on, Dad! Let's go! Dad! Come on!"

And who is this **man** in my kitchen, drinking coffee? A lot has happened in the year that I've been . . . away. He looks up as I enter the kitchen. "Morning, Dad."

"You're up early. Have you already eaten?" I take a seat at the bar and look down at him as he sits on the couch.

"Yeah. I just had cereal."

"What do you have planned today? Want to go to the park and toss a ball around?"

He looked up at me. "I can't, I have training today."

"Training?"

"I thought I told you. It's on the calendar."

I get up and look. _K-training _is written on several days. "So it is. What's that about?"

Thankfully, he refrains from rolling his eyes. "I've got a lot of catching up to do. Three mornings a week, I have special training sessions to bring me up to where the other guys are. Then I come home for lunch, and go back for the regular practice in the afternoon."

"Will you be alone, or will you have company?"

"Do you mind company?"

"Not really." They're a pretty well-behaved bunch of guys, overall. Some of them are regulars, some only come once in a while. I still don't know all their names yet.

He takes a sip of his coffee, and that's when I realize that it's not coffee after all. It's tea. Since when did Kit start drinking tea? Tricia drank it all the time, but that was a long time ago. It must be something he picked up from Len and Kase.

"I'm heading out pretty soon," he says. "I'll be back around noon."

"You and how many?"

"I don't know. How many is too many?" he asks, with a grin. "Maybe four or five of us. That okay?"

"You know your friends are always welcome here."

He finishes his tea, gets up and puts the cup in the sink. "Gotta go. See you later, Dad."

"Have a good session," I tell him. I was surprised when I found out how good a fighter he is. I was raised with the principles of nonviolence, and I've always tried to teach Kit the same thing, but if he can hold his own against guys who've been training since they were six years old, that's something to be proud of.

Eventually I get up and fix my own breakfast, and sit down again thinking about how different all this would be if Tricia were still here. Would any of the events of the past year even have happened? Probably not.

It's funny how she pops into my head at odd moments. Not a day goes by that I don't miss her, but she's not often in the front of my mind. I have this mental image of her cleaning footprints off the mirrors and making sandwiches all the time she's complaining about unplanned company. I think she would have been cool with this, once she got used to it.

After I finish breakfast, I take a shower and get dressed, then I look over my To Do list for the day. It was Kit's idea, believe it or not. We have a lot of white boards around the house we use for communication and planning and stuff like that. My daily To Do list is on the back of my door. I've never been a list type of guy, and I didn't think Kit was either; I guess it must be something else he picked up from Kase or Len.

My list is a short one: _Get milk, light bulbs, new shower curtain. _Seems pretty easy. Depending on where I go, I could get them all in one trip. No rush, though, I have all morning.

Half an hour later, I'm sitting in a coffee shop, experiencing the joy of being able to complete the crossword puzzle myself. Usually, that Chance kid has it already done before I've even got a look at the paper. He's a nice guy, and he and Kit are pretty tight already, but I'm tired of opening the paper and finding the crossword already filled in-in ink.

Last week, I had a surprise for him when he showed up. I had bought him a big book of _New York Times _crosswords-tough ones. He thanked me and went to work on it right away.

Two hours later I found him sprawled across the couch watching wrestling.

"Did you give up on the puzzles?" I asked.

"No," he said. "I finished them."

"All of them? There were two hundred puzzles in that book!"

"I'm good at puzzles," he said.

"We don't keep him around just for his good looks," said the other boy, I think his name is Hunter or something.

Since then, I've been hiding the paper so Chance won't get hold of it before I do. I guess they all have their little quirks. One of them, I've heard, has amazing recall. I'm not sure which one. I think I've met them all, but after a while, they all get confused in my mind. I was calling Price John for the longest time, before he finally corrected me.

I linger over the coffee and the paper as long as I can, and then I finally get up and go about my errands. There's a hardware store a block away where I can get the light bulbs and possibly the shower curtain as well. I'll get the milk last, on my way home.

By the time I have everything done and I'm heading home, it's quarter of twelve. I think briefly about picking up some takeout for lunch, then decide to see how many people I'm buying for before ordering anything. Besides, I don't know what everyone will be in the mood for.

I get in the door only to find that they're already here. Looks like five today; Kit, Len, and Kase, plus Chance (good thing I did the crossword already) and one I don't think I've met yet.

"You guys want to order something?" I ask.

"We thought we'd just make sandwiches," Kit says. "Dad, this is Quinn. I don't think you've met before."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir," Quinn says, sticking out his hand. I take it and try to recall any mention of a Quinn. I think I remember something . . . he's the one who likes Harry Potter, isn't he?

"Nice to meet you too, Quinn. You don't have to call me sir. We're not formal here. You can just call me Frank, like everyone else."

Well, almost everyone else. Kase and Len have started calling me Dad sometimes. They're my other kids, and I love them like my own. We're all family here.

"Okay," I say, going to the fridge. "Who wants grilled cheese sandwiches?"

"I'll take two," Chance says. He's lying across the couch, his feet hanging over the edge. He never sits when he can lie, and when he can't, he leans back and takes up as much room vertically as he can. I see him reaching for the paper when he thinks I'm not looking. Boy, is he going to get a surprise.

"So how did the training go today?" I ask as I'm getting ingredients out and greasing up the big frying pan.

"Pretty good," Kit says. "I'm trying to find my attribute."

"Your what?"

"Every Rider has one," Len explains. "It's the thing that defines him-or her-most."

"Like something you're good at."

"No, it's something you **are**. It's hard to explain . . ."

"And how do you find this attribute?"

"By getting your butt kicked, apparently," Kit says with a smile.

"Just your luck you drew Ian for a partner," says Chance. "He doesn't do anything halfway."

"Have I met this Ian?" I ask.

Kit is shaking his head and chuckling. "Dad, if you'd met Ian, you'd remember him. He never stops moving. Even when he's sitting still, some part of him is still moving. He has a lot of restless energy."

"Reminds me of someone else I know." I have four sandwiches cooking. I flip them over, and get four more ready to go. At this rate, this'll take all day, and these kids can eat faster than I can cook.

"Want some help?" Kase is beside me, getting out the other frying pan and spraying cooking oil all over it. "You look like you've got your hands full."

"Thanks, hon." She really is a sweetheart. She doesn't mind helping with the cooking or the cleaning, as long as she's not the only one doing it.

And Kit is pouring the milk and passing it out, without even being asked. That's a first. What a difference a year makes, huh?

It's some time before I'm finally able to sit down and eat myself. These kids can really pack away the food, but with all the activity they do, they need the calories. There's not a single crumb left over by the time they're picking up their plates and putting them in the sink.

"Don't just dump them!" Kase scolds them. "Rinse them off and stack them on the counter. Honestly," she says to me, rolling her eyes, "if I didn't keep after them, they wouldn't do anything!"

"That is not true!" Chance protests. "I washed a dish last night!"

"**A **dish," she points out. "And you didn't so much wash it as run it under the water and take a few swipes at it with a cloth."

"Still counts."

She looks at me like _You see what I have to work with?_

"Just leave it, guys," I tell them. "I'll get it. I don't mind."

Kase just shrugs and steps aside while the guys rinse and stack. "Come on, let's go, we've got to get back by one."

"We've got plenty of time!" Chance sits back down on the couch and opens the paper, looking for the crossword. Cue surprise in three, two, one . . .

"Oh, man!" He looks over at me. "You finished it already?"

"Maybe you should buy your own paper."

"Maybe you should get two."

"We have to **go**," Kase reminds him.

Kit is just getting his jacket on. "You'll be home for dinner?" I ask him.

"Course I will! Might have a few people with me."

"Not a problem."

"We'll pick up something." He comes over and puts an arm around me in an unusual display of affection. "See you, Dad."

"Have fun."

Len comes over to say goodbye. "Don't let those guys hit him too hard," I tell him.

He just smiles. "Kit? He gives as good as he gets. He doesn't need my help."

"He's that good, huh?"

"You should come watch him sometime."

"Maybe I will."

Kase is next. "Bye, sweetheart. Thanks for all your help."

"Oh, no problem. I actually like cooking now. I just wish I could get these guys to take their turn," she says, aiming a dirty look at Chance.

"What?" he says, throwing up his hands. "I cook!

"Heating up a frozen lasagna is not cooking!"

"It's as close as I'm gonna get!"

"You guys," she says, shaking her head. And then she steps into the mirror, like it's one of those beaded curtains my parents used to have.

Chance is the next to go. "Frank, Frank," he says, shaking his head. "You knew I was coming, didn't you? That's why you did the crossword ahead of time."

"Do yourself a favor. Invest the seventy-five cents."

"Maybe I will." He smiles, claps me on the shoulder, and he's gone.

Quinn has been hanging back the whole time. I get the feeling he's a bit shy, especially around people he doesn't know very well. "It was nice to meet you, Quinn."

"Nice to meet you, too, si-Frank."

"You were raised to respect your elders. I'm impressed."

He looked a little sad. "I wish I could have impressed my dad. No chance of that now."

"Why not?"

"He was killed in action."

"I'm sorry."

"It was a long time ago. And I hadn't seen him since I was two, but still . . ."

"Yeah, I know. It could be ten years, or a hundred, and it still feels like yesterday." That's exactly how I feel about Tricia. "Maybe . . . maybe he's somewhere where he can see you, and he's proud of you."

"You think so?" He looks up at me hopefully.  
"Absolutely. Our loved ones are never really gone; they're just somewhere out of reach. Now don't keep them waiting too long." I can see them in the mirror, on the other side, waiting for him.

"Oh, right. Um . . . thanks." He just stands there for a moment, and then he steps into the mirror.

Once he's gone, I finish the dishes, wash out the pans, and then I sit down and think about a lot of things. I really do believe that she's still here. Sometimes I can feel her, not as if she's in the room, but like she just stepped out for a moment and she'll be right back. I know she'd be proud of what our little boy has made of himself.

Just like I'm proud of him.


	5. A Moment Alone

Price was sitting up in bed reading when Maya came in.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey." He set the book down and reached out to put an arm around her. "I missed you."

"I got so worried when they wouldn't let me in to see you."

"Ah, it was only a precaution. They didn't want you to get sick."

"I would have risked it."

"Trust me, you wouldn't want what I had. It was . . . pretty nasty."

"I guess, if they had to keep you quarantined for a whole week."

"Let's not think about that now," he said. "We can have some quality time together-"

BANG! The door slammed open so hard it bounced off the far wall. "Where'smyhairdryer?"

"What?"

"Hair. Dryer."

Price sighed. "Ian, why would your hair dryer be in here?"

"I've looked everywhere else!"

"Have you tried the bathrooms?"

"Every last one! It wasn't in any of them!"

Price looked up at the ceiling as if the answers were written there. He thought about that long, lonely week when he'd been so sick and had counted the days till he could see Maya again. Those days had been almost too much for him to bear, and now he was determined to make up for lost time. But first, he had to get rid of Ian.

"Ian," he said, "your hair dryer is not in here. I didn't take it. I don't know why it would be in here. So why don't you go look for it somewhere else? Somewhere, say, at the other end of the complex? Look very carefully; take your time. Take a couple of hours."

"But I've already looked everywhere-"

"Then look again."

Realization began to dawn on Ian's face. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Uh, yeah," Price said. "We were hoping to catch up on the week that we missed, since we weren't able to see each other-"

"You wouldn't have wanted to see him," Ian said to Maya. "Not a pretty sight. Stuff was coming out of him like-what?"

She just smiled and shook her head. "Do you ever stop talking?"

"You . . . want me to go?"

"If you wouldn't mind." Maya got up and escorted Ian to the door. He was about halfway through it when he remembered the other reason he was here, and came back.

"You got any leftover meds? I, uh, think I'm getting a cold."

Price sighed and handed over a half-empty bottle of pills. "Read the directions," he advised. Ian just stared at him blankly. Maya took the bottle, looked it over, and shook out two tablets, handing them to Ian.

"Here you go. Do you need a glass of water?"

"Yes, please. Um, if you don't mind."

"Okay." She brought him some water from the small bathroom and handed it over. Ian nodded his thanks and gulped it down like it was the last drop of water in the world.

"Maybe you should go lie down for a while," Price suggested.

"You might be right." Finally, he was leaving. Maya breathed a sigh of relief that now she'd finally get some uninterrupted time with Price.

But suddenly, halfway out the door, Ian turned and said, "Are you **sure **you don't have my hair dryer?"

"Positive," Price said. "Now go and get some rest. You look like you need it."

"Do I look that bad? Really?" Ian went and looked at himself in the mirror, and didn't like what he saw. "Yeah, you're right. My eyes are all red. Do I feel warm to you?" he asked, snatching up Maya's hand and placing it on his forehead.

"Uh . . . no."

"You sure? Cause I'm starting to feel really dizzy-"

"Then maybe you should go down to the infirmary and get yourself looked at," Price suggested. "Like, right now?"

"You think it's that bad?"

"It could be, if you've caught what I had. It felt like my head swelled up to the size of a planet."

"That sounds painful," said Maya. "What was it that Master Eubulon said about illness? That it could be a warning sign of a deeper problem-"

Suddenly there was a loud noise from behind her.

"Oops," Ian said. "Sorry I knocked over your chair. Little balance problem."

"Then maybe you should sit down." Maya came over, set the chair the right way, and motioned for Ian to sit. After a moment, he did.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Don't be," she said. "It's probably the medication. I know that cold medicine makes me a little loopy sometimes. Just sit there until you feel better, and then you can go get yourself looked at."

"Thanks." He leaned back and tried to clear his throat, but it turned into a coughing fit. Maya brought him some more water. He was shivering as well, and seemed a little bit disoriented, but she didn't think it was too serious. Yet.

"I want to check your vital signs," she said, "just to make sure you're okay."

"Want to check mine, too?" Price asked, with a suggestive gleam in his eyes.

Maya raised her eyebrows. "I'll take care of you in a minute."

"Okay." He climbed back into bed again. Technically, he was still supposed to be on bed rest for another day, even if he was feeling better. But as long as he didn't leave the room, he might be able to get away with some basic exercises . . . and that line of thought led to some very naughty ideas, that he hoped he'd have a chance to try out soon.

Maya was looking at something. "Hey, Ian, what's this spot on the back of your neck? How long has that been there?"

"What?" He twisted his head around, trying to see, but of course he couldn't.

She ran a fingertip over the spot. "This big red mark. It doesn't seem like a boil or a zit or anything . . ."

"How big is it? Oh, my God, I'm gonna die! Tell me it's not a tumor!"

"I don't think it is," Maya said. "It's probably nothing. Does it hurt when I touch it?"

Ian's face contorted in what was probably supposed to be an expression of deep concentration. "I . . . I don't think so. Maybe. A little bit."

"It might be a friction mark, from something rubbing up against your neck right there. Maybe you should get it looked at."

"You're right." But he made no move to leave, even when Price gave him a warning look from his place on the bed. "I'll just go do that. Yeah. I'm going. Right now. Um, why is the room spinning?"

"What?" Maya was really starting to worry now. Was this something contagious? Would she be the next one to get sick? What if she had to go to the hospital? What if she-

"Hey."

She turned and saw Kit standing in the doorway. "Kit, hi!"

"Everything okay in here?"

Ian turned his head slowly and looked up at him. "I'm sick," he said.

"Okay. Why don't you come with me?" He hooked an arm around Ian's shoulders and hauled him up out of the chair. "Let's go get you taken care of. Everything will be fine."

Ian looked like he wasn't so sure, but he went along anyway, babbling all the way out of the room. "Do you think it's serious? It usually is, when I get sick. But it doesn't happen very often. I think this is gonna be a bad one. I might be laid up for days - maybe weeks! What do you think it is? I thought it was just a cold, but it's the cough that worries me. It's a pretty bad cough."

"Right," Kit said, humoring him. "I think you'll be okay."

"Did I ever tell you my Loud/Quiet theory of illnesses?"

"Uh, no, I don't think so."

"See, people react in one of two ways when they get sick - loud, or quiet. Loud people complain a lot and make demands, that kind of thing. The quiet ones just tough it out with no fuss. Or they find a place to hole up and sleep it off. Sometimes someone can be quiet with loud tendencies, or loud but quiet in certain situations -"

"Don't worry about it," said Kit. "Come on, let's go."

"Can you guess which one I am?"

"Annoying?" said Price.

"No, that wasn't one of the choices! You're not playing the game right!"

"Come **on!**" Kit finally dragged Ian away, still babbling. Once they were out of earshot, Maya dragged a chair over to Price's bedside, determined to pick up where they had left off. She leaned in close, but he pulled away.

"No, babe, not yet."

"I thought you weren't contagious anymore."

"Why take the chance?"

She settled for resting her head on his shoulder. "What are you reading?"

He held the book up so she could see the title. "I borrowed it from Quinn. It's really interesting."

"What's it about?"

"It's about a boy who gets caught in an inter-dimensional traffic jam and winds up in the wrong universe by accident. It's so close that he doesn't notice the difference until he meets up with this man who shows him a magic crystal that . . . I can't really do it justice. You can look at it when I'm done."

"Or we could read it together," she suggested.

"Yeah, but you have to start at the beginning, or it won't make any-"

The door burst open. "You're not gonna believe this."

Price put the book down and buried his face in his hands. "What do I have to do? Lock the door?"

"Calm down, buddy," Chance said. "I just wanted to tell you that we're going to be watching _Transformers_ in a few minutes. Giant freaking robots, man!"

"Can't, sorry. Still on bed rest until tomorrow."

"You sure? I won't tell anybody!"

"Is this your hair dryer?" Hunt stood in the doorway, holding it out.

Before anyone could answer, Ian came running up and grabbed it. "I've been looking all over for this!"

"I thought you were in the infirmary," Maya said.

"I was, but . . . I need my hair dryer. I was going to take a shower. I thought it might help me feel better."

"Oh. That makes sense. You should probably still get looked at, just to make sure you're not having any adverse reactions to the medicine you took. Are you allergic to anything?"

"No. Well, I don't think so. I don't get sick that much, and I can't remember having any reactions to anything."

"OK . . ." She didn't know if that was good or bad.

"I think," said Price, "that if you were allergic to the meds, you would know by now."

"Did you have any reactions?" Ian asked him.

"I thought I did. Turned out they just hadn't started working yet. You should be fine."

"I'll bring him back down to the infirmary," Hunt offered. He took Ian by the elbow and gently but firmly led him away.

Chance, still standing in the doorway, cleared his throat. "I'll, um, go start the movie," he said.

"How long do you have it?" asked Price.

"Oh, I bought it. It'll be here, any time you want to see it."

"Okay, then."

"Yeah, um . . . take care."

He left the room. As soon as he was gone, Price got up and turned the lock on the door.

"There. Now we won't have any more interruptions."

* * *

The next day, Maya left the guest room as soon as she woke up, packing her things in her bag so she'd be ready to go at a moment's notice. She went to the dining hall to see if breakfast was ready, and found that Price was already up, cereal and juice in front of him, the book in his hand.

"Hey, you're finally freed from house arrest," she said, sliding into the chair beside him.

He looked up. "Yeah, it feels good."

"What do you want to do today?"

"I haven't thought about it, really. Why? What did you want to do?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Something fun."

"Well, that sure narrows it down. Inside? Outside?"

"Oh, outside, definitely. I think we've had enough of inside for a while."

"Okay, outside it is."

She looked around the room and noticed a few people were missing. "Where's Ian?" she asked.

"Probably still in bed," said Price. "Sleeping off whatever he's got."

"Hope it's not serious."

"I doubt it. Just a cold, I think."

"I hope so. Kit's not here, either."

"I wouldn't worry about him. He's been known to be a late sleeper."

"Really?"

"Hasn't adjusted to the schedule yet, I guess. He usually sleeps in till almost eight o'clock unless someone goes and shakes him-" Just as he was saying that, Kit shuffled in and sat down.

"Hey," he rasped, and then put his head down on the table.

"What's the matter?" Maya asked him. "You okay?"

He sniffled a couple of times. "I think I'm getting Ian's cold."

"Awww." She patted him on the shoulder.

"You should go to the infirmary,' Price advised him.

"I just want to go home and go to bed. And sleep for a week."

"See, you're definitely a Quiet."

Kit raised his head and looked at him. "What?"

"Ian's theory. Some people are loud when they get sick, some are quiet. You're a Quiet, which is weird, because Adam was Loud. Well, not **too** loud, but definitely needy."

"You've thought a lot about this, haven't you?"

"Yeah, I have. I'm pretty sure we have more Quiets than Louds, which probably isn't too surprising."

"Tell me," Maya said. "Who's who?"

"Well," he began, "I'm sure you probably know this, but Len is Quiet. Kase, however, tends to be a bit on the Loud side. Gets a little cranky sometimes. Chance is definitely Loud. Hunt is Quiet, but Chase is Loud. Quinn is so Quiet he's practically invisible - this one time, I was coming out of the room, and I turned the light off, and all of a sudden I heard 'Hey!' He was sitting in the corner with his book, not making a sound."

Maya laughed at that. Even Kit couldn't help but crack a smile. "Who else?" he asked.

"Well, let's see . . . Cam tends to be Quiet. Van has definite Loud tendencies, though. Overindulged as a child, he says. Nolan is Quiet. Who am I forgetting?"

"I think that's everybody," Maya said. "Of course we know you're Quiet, and Ian is way Loud. I wonder how he's doing?"

"When I left him," said Kit, "the nurse was standing guard over him, threatening to tie him down if he took off again. He's **not **a good patient."

"Louds rarely are,' said Price. "Quiets make good caregivers, though. They have more patience."

"Aren't you going to eat anything?" Maya asked Kit. He was sitting there without so much as a glass of juice or a crumb of toast in front of him.

"I'm not really hungry right now. Maybe I'll just go back to bed."

"You don't know what you're missing. This is the best breakfast I've ever had," Price said.

"You really should eat something," said Maya. "I'll go get you some cereal or something."

"It's okay, don't bother," Kit moaned. "It hurts when I swallow."

"Oh, boy." Price looked concerned. "That's how it started for me. What other symptoms have you got? Headache?"

Kit nodded. "Yeah, right behind my eyes."

"Are you congested at all?"

"I think so."

"You'd better get down to the infirmary, then. It's only going to get worse from here."

"I don't want to bother anyone-"

Price chuckled. "Typical Quiet. Look, don't worry about bothering anyone. You're sick, you need help, go get it before you get worse."

"I guess you're right," Kit said. "I'll go." He got up a bit slowly, leaning on the table.

"Want me to walk with you?" Maya asked.

"No, it's okay. I'll make it." "I just thought you might want some company."

"I'll be fine." As he shuffled off, Maya looked after him sadly.

"Poor guy."

"He'll be okay, in a few days. Once they start him on the medication, he'll be a lot better. But enough about him. We were talking about what we were going to do today."

"I was thinking . . . maybe a nice long walk in the park?"

"Hmm. That's a possibility."

"Or we could go to Diorio's for lunch. I could go for some pizza."

"I'm afraid no one's going anywhere."

Everyone turned to see Master Eubulon standing in the doorway, looking grim. Never a good sign.

"I've just been informed that Ian has measles," he continued. "As of right now, the entire base is under quarantine until further notice."

"Quarantine?" someone asked. "How long will that last?"

"At least a week. Possibly two."

"Ouch!" This was not welcome news, especially considering that the last time there'd been a quarantine, it had lasted nearly a month, and hadn't worked in the end anyway.

Price and Maya looked at each other and laughed. "Talk about 'be careful what you wish for'!" Maya said. "All we wanted was some uninterrupted time together-"

Just then, Kit came back to the table.

"Well, that was fast," said Price.

"They kicked me out." Kit slumped down in the chair he had vacated not five minutes before. "There's about four other people with the measles, and they say it's only going to get worse. They needed the bed, so they gave me some pills and told me to just go to bed for a few days."

Price nodded and said, "You should do that. You'll feel a lot better when you've had some rest and given the medicine time to work. Someone will get a message to your dad, somehow, that you'll be here for a while. So don't worry about a thing."

"Thanks." Kit managed a smile in spite of his terrible headache. "I think I'll go to my room now and chill for a while. I hope it helps."

"It will. Let me know if you need anything."

"OK." With that, Kit went back to his room, leaving the two of them alone at the table.

"Well," Maya said, "what now?"

Price thought about it. "We could watch _Transformers._ About a hundred times."

"That might be too much. But it would be a good time to watch all those movies we keep saying we want to get around to seeing, but never do."

"That sounds like a plan."

"Can we set up the system in your room? It's cozier than the Lounge."

"I've had enough of my room for a while. Maybe one of the guest suites?"

"Yeah, that could work."

In a few minutes, they had everything assembled: the player, the movies, and even a fresh bowl of popcorn. As they settled in to watch the first film in their marathon, Maya thought that this moment was worth the week-long separation. Oh, yes. This made up for everything.


	6. Maya and the Vampire, pt 1

"We are here!" I said, looking around the room at the weird, spooky, and colorful characters everywhere. "This is Monster Bash, and we have arrived!"

"Yeah, whatever," Lacey said. She stopped to re-tie her sandal for the four hundredth time. "Why does this stupid thing keep coming undone?"

"Double-knot them," I suggested.

She gave me a nasty look. "These are genuine leather, not ten-dollar sneakers! I don't want to ruin them!"

"Well, excuse me for trying to help!"

"Trent!" Maya tried to shake her head at me, but her headdress was too heavy. She settled for giving me the Glare of Death. "We're supposed to be having a good time!"

"We just got here!" I couldn't help pointing out.

There was a table inside the door, where a pretty lady in a nurse's uniform (a very short one) took all our names.

"It's for the costume contest," she said. "I have to say, I think you have the Best Group prize already. _Star Wars_ characters, right? Love the robes! You even have a Queen Amidala! One year we had five of them. I must say, you did a good job."

"Thanks," Maya said. "It took me an hour to get this thing on. And then the makeup! I never wear this much makeup!"

The nurse looked at me. "Who are you supposed to be? Obi-Wan?"

"No, I'm Mace Windu. Purple lightsaber?" I pressed the button on the bottom that extended the plastic blade. "How cool is this? I'm a Jedi!"

"We know," Kit said, rolling his eyes. "You've only repeated it every two minutes since we left home."

"Okay . . . you've got a Luke Skywalker, a Princess Leia, **and **a Han Solo. And a very handsome one, too," she said, giving Len a wink. She was just lucky Princess Leia wasn't the jealous type.

"And . . ." She eyed Lacey's costume with some disdain. "What are you supposed to be?"

"I'm Ahsoka. You know, the apprentice from the cartoon series?"

"A.k.a. the most annoying character since Jar Jar Binks," I added. "She refused to be a Wookie or a Droid."

"And the Storm Trooper helmet covered my eyes."

The nurse gave us a tight little smile. "Right. How do you spell that?"

I spelled it out for her, wishing Lacey hadn't chosen something so . . . lame. I had an X-Wing pilot suit that I'd worn to the last Megacon. She could have worn that. But noooo! She had to be the one character I can't stand! Why did she have to-

"Hey, man," said Price, who was dressed all in black as Anakin Skywalker. "You coming or what?"

They had already finished checking in and had moved on without me. "Oh! Yeah, I'm coming."

The place was done up with black and orange streamers, fake spider webs, and papier-mache monsters in the corners. The party was sponsored by the local oldies station, so I expected to hear "Monster Mash" a lot.

There was a pink Darth Vader. I'm not kidding. The mask, the cape, everything, only in pink. I had to look twice to be sure I was seeing what I thought I saw. For a moment I thought someone had slipped something into the punch, but then I remembered I hadn't had any punch yet.

"Oh, so **that's **the Hello Kitty Darth Vader!" Maya said. "I saw that online, but I wasn't sure if it was real. That is so . . ."

"Stupid?" I asked.

"Not exactly. More like some kind of weird practical joke on everyone." She rolled her eyes and headed for the punch bowl.

I was about to follow her when I noticed a group of guys standing over by the DJ booth. They were dressed as bikers, and they were watching us like they wanted to start something. I wasn't about to mess with them-they looked like they could break me in half without even trying. I decided to give them a wide berth and stuck to what I knew: geeks.

"Rorschach, huh?" I asked one masked partygoer. "Love the mask!"

"Custom job. Friend of mine made it. Found the template online."

"Yeah, okay." This guy was a little too in character. I moved on to an attractive young lady in green latex foam armor. "You're Kamen Rider Torque," I said. "You do know he's a guy, right?"

"Not in my universe," she said, and slammed her visor down.

"Okay, I'll talk to you later!" I said, keeping it cool.

Next I went over to a girl with pink hair and the most detailed Mecha Pilot uniform I had seen outside of a big convention. She even had the little badges of rank along her sleeve. I told her how impressed I was. "Wow, that's the best outfit I've ever seen. Did you make it yourself, or did you pay someone to do it?"

"I made it for Vista Con last year. Won second prize. Yours is pretty cool, too. Mace Windu, right?"

I wanted to hug her, but held back.

"Oh, look," she said. "They're passing out the tags for the costume judging." There was a man going around and handing out little orange tags to random partygoers. At the end of the night, all those holding the tags would be called up for the costume judging.

I got excited when I saw him heading our way. He gave tags to two other people before making it to us. We were practically dying of anxiety by the time he reached us and handed an orange tag to my new friend.

"Congratulations, you're in the judging," he said.

She practically squealed with delight. "Omigod, I'm so psyched! I have to go tweet this to all my friends, and then I'll post it on my Facebook page . . ."

I felt a little jealous; because of the nature of my job, I was no longer allowed on social networking sites. On the other hand, I did work with the most sophisticated telecommunications equipment in the world, so I couldn't really complain.

And then the man gave me a purple tag. "What's this?" I asked him.

"You're in the group competition. You and your friends," he said, pointing to Maya standing over by the refreshment table. "If you ask me, I'd say you've got it. Too bad I'm not one of the judges."

"Yeah, I guess so." I looked again, and saw the biker guys going over to the table where Maya was standing. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but judging from her expression, it was pretty nasty. I was prepared to go over and tell them off when someone else beat me to it.

"Hey, guys," Len said. "She's taken. Back off."

"Shut your piehole, loser," said the biggest of the guys, "or I'll shut it for you."

"Now, now, Raymond," said a man with long blond hair and a fancy jacket. He had some kind of exotic accent and pronounced his friend's name with the accent on the second syllable. "Let's not lose our heads. We need not resort to violent means in order to get our way." He turned to Maya and said, "A charming young lady like yourself deserves to be treated like a goddess."

Maya looked like she didn't know what to say to that; she turned away and blushed. He reached up and took her hand, lifting it to his lips as if he were in an old movie, or a play.

I wanted to say something. I wanted to **do **something, but when the man in the fancy jacket looked over in my direction, it was like I couldn't move. I stared at him, in a trance, and I might have been standing there forever if Price hadn't come back with the punch.

"Who's that?" he asked, looking at the man who was still flirting with Maya.

"I don't know. I think he's with the biker guys. He's been over there a long time. Maybe you should get Maya away from those creeps-"

Just then, the bikers turned toward us, and I realized that they had heard me. "Who you callin' a creep, jerkoff?"

"You, creep!" Had that really come out of my mouth? I wanted to apologize, but something in the way the guys were looking at me suggested that maybe I shouldn't go shooting my mouth off any more than I already had.

It was Price who saved me. He stepped between me and the advancing bikers, and took a defensive stance. "You have a problem with my friends, creeps?"

Then Maya grabbed my hand and dragged me away. "We have to get out of here," she said.

"Don't you want to stay with what's-his-name?"

"Francois."

"Yeah, whatever. He seemed very . . . attracted to you."

"He'll get over it. Let's go find the others."

We then spread out and looked all over the room, but there was no sign of our friends. Then something hit me on the back of the head, and I toppled over like a stack of bricks. When I came to, Maya was gone.

I ran around in a panic, trying to find someone I knew, and it only got worse when I saw Price lying on the floor, covered in blood. "Oh, my God! Price! Are you okay?"

He groaned and rolled over on his side. "Wha' happ'n'd?"

"I don't know. We got separated, and . . . Maya's gone. Can you stand? You look like a truck ran over you."

"I dunno," he drawled. "Don' remember . . ." Then he threw up on me.

That was not a good sign. I needed to find the others right away so we could begin to search the area for Maya or that creepy Francois. But in a room this size, it was hard to find anybody in a hurry. There was a weird stain on the floor that looked like blood, but everyone was just stepping over it or around it. They probably thought it was just part of the decorations. It was only making me more worried as I frantically searched the room for anyone I knew.

And then suddenly I spotted Maya across the room. That headdress was hard to miss. I rushed over and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Maya, thank God! I thought you'd gone off with that guy-"

She looked up at me with wide eyes-wide **blue **eyes-and just as my brain was registering the fact that this wasn't Maya, an arm slipped around my neck and squeezed and a very scary voice whispered in my ear, "Kindly take your hands off my wife or I'll eviscerate you before you can draw your next breath."

It took a while for things to finally calm down (and by the way, the rest of the room was still not paying us any attention), but when we sat down and compared notes, it turned out that I'd met these people before, at the last Comic Con.

"You were the X-Wing pilot handing out flyers," the girl who wasn't Maya said. Her name was Miranda, and her husband's was Alan. They were veteran cosplayers and LARPers (and I had a lot of fun trying to explain the concept to a semi-conscious Price, who desperately needed medical attention) who'd come to Monster Bash for years. They had a long and infamous history with Francois and his group.

"They like to hit the big fantasy expos," Alan said. His Jedi costume was so much more detailed than mine, it almost made me cry. I'd have to ask if I could borrow it some time. "Francois and his entourage have been a thorn in our side for some time now . . . he has done this before."

"What, kidnapping?" I asked.

"Actually, that's a new one. The last time we met, he stole a priceless piece of jewelry from me. The time before that, he beat up one of my friends who'd had the audacity to say that Francois was . . . less than a gentleman."

"So you have some history together."

"Unfortunately," Miranda said. "We know where he usually stays, when he is in this area, and we will take you to him as soon as you find your friends."

"First things first," I said. "This guy needs a doctor. Maybe a hospital." If I could just find Kase . . .

"No hospital," Price said. "We don't have time. Have to . . . find Maya."

"Dude, you might have a concussion. Or worse. We can't just ignore that!"

"Never mind me, save her!" Then he passed out.

It was then that, **finally**, the others found us.

"Maya's been taken," I said, "and Price is hurt. Bad. He needs a hospital or something."

Kase nodded. "I'll take him back to the base. You guys go after Maya."

"I need to get to a computer," I said. "I can track her using the GPS in her phone."

"What can I do?" Lacey asked.

I'd forgotten she was there. "You can go with Kase."

"No way! Maya's my friend, too! I want to help!"

"Fine." With that, I sent her to look for a computer that I could borrow to do what I needed. It would be easy once I linked up with the central computer system back at the base.

She came running back. "There's a guy in the gaming center who says we can borrow his laptop for a bit, as long as we're careful with it."

"That's great! Thanks, Lace."

The problem was . . . the thing could only be called a laptop by the greatest stretch of the imagination. It was an Acer Aspire One, and I wasn't sure it would have enough power for what I needed it to do.

"Nice color," I said. "Custom job, or did it come like this?"

"The color's from the factory," the owner said. "The custom skin's mine."

I flipped the top down to take a look. It was an illustration from Maya's book, depicting Kase in uniform. "You're a Kamen Rider fan?"

"Can't get enough. That's why I named this baby Siren. She's hot!"

Something about that made me feel very, very uncomfortable. I was about to log on and link up when I started feeling very dizzy. It was like the whole room was swaying from side to side.

"Are you okay?" Lacey asked.

I closed my eyes. "This is not good."

"You're hurt," Len said. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Oh, that." In all the confusion, I had forgotten my own head injury. "I guess I forgot."

"Wait," said Kit. "Let me try. I've been practicing."

I looked up at him. "Practicing **what**?"

"Healing. I think I can do this."

"You **think**?" That didn't sound too good.

"Don't worry," said Len. "If he can't do it, I will."

"Who said I can't do it?"

"Nobody. Nobody at all."

We all waited while the laptop booted up. Then Kit put his hands on either side of my head and I felt this kind of warmth spreading around, like sunshine. It felt so good that when he took his hands away, I wanted him to do it again.

"Did it work?" he asked me.

I actually had to think about it for a minute. "Yeah," I said. "Yeah, it did. I do feel better. Thanks, Kit."

"I did it!" he said, sounding pleased with himself. "I actually did it!"

"Yeah, good job," said Len. "Now let's find Maya."

It took me a few moments to tap into the system at the base, using my confidential ID and password. I made everyone cover their eyes while I entered it, so they wouldn't know what it was.

Once I was linked into the system, I tapped into the satellite signals, so that I could track Maya's phone. It only took a moment; she hadn't gone that far.

"She's in the parking lot," I said. "Let me see if I can get a visual."

"No need," said Alan. "I know what Francois' vehicle looks like. It's a black Hummer with flames along the sides, and grinning skulls on the hood."

"Sounds real cheerful," Kit said. "Let's go get him."

"Wait," said Len. "We need to figure out what to do once we've caught up with them."

"Leave that to us," said Miranda. "We will deal with Francois. You get the girl out of there. Let's just hope we're in time."

"You know what he has planned for her, don't you?"

"We do. And we have to hurry, or else her soul will be lost for all eternity."

"Wait a minute," I said. "Is this role-play stuff, or is this for real?"

The look she gave me could have withered solid steel. "Francois," she told us, "is a vampire. For real."

"And you would know this how?"

"We have been tracking him for some time now. Lately, he has been searching for . . ."

"For what?" Len asked her.

She looked like she didn't want to tell us. It was Alan who said, "For a bride. He wants to make her a monster like himself. We only have till midnight to stop him."

"Then what are we waiting for?" I quickly logged out of the system, powered down the laptop, and gave it back to its rightful owner, trying not to let Len see the picture on the cover.  
"Just follow us," said Alan. "We know where he's hiding out right now."


	7. Maya and the Vampire, pt 2

_Previously:_

"_This is Monster Bash, and we have arrived!"_

"_Who's that?" Price asked, looking at the man who was flirting with Maya. _

"_I don't know. I think he's with the biker guys."_

"_Oh, my God! Price! Are you okay?"_

"_Wha' happ'n'd?"_

"_I don't know. We got separated, and . . . Maya's gone_."

"_She's in the parking lot," I said. "Let me see if I can get a visual."_

"_No need," said Alan. "I know what Francois' vehicle looks like. We have been tracking him for some time now. Lately, he has been searching for . . ."_

"_For a bride."_

"_We only have till midnight to stop him."_

"_Then what are we waiting for?"  
"Just follow us," said Alan. "We know where he's hiding out right now."_

I accompanied them to their car, which was a silver Lexus with some kind of parking sticker on the back window.

"We'll follow you on the bikes," Kit said.

"We didn't bring them," Len reminded him. "We all came in the one car, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. Well . . . do you mind?"

"Not at all," Miranda said. "Hop in."

And wouldn't you know, I ended up squished in the middle, with my feet on the hump. I've always hated that. At least let me have a window! Even if it was night and there wasn't much to see.

We stayed about three or four cars behind Francois, close enough that we wouldn't lose him but far back enough so that he wouldn't see us. And boy, we went fast. Every time Alan changed lanes, I thought we were going to slam into the car in front of us, but he was as good with the brake as he was with the gas pedal. Still, every time he swerved, I closed my eyes.

Francois' lair turned out to be a big old house in an empty neighborhood. It looked like the one holdout in a sea of urban renewal. The flame-and-skull-decorated Hummer sat in the driveway; yeah, no way anyone was missing **that** thing. We drove past and parked at the end of the block, in front of a coffee shop. Then we got out and started sneaking back towards the house.

The light from the few remaining street lamps turned the shop windows into mirrors. I've become very conscious of mirrors - I never sit with my back to one, never get caught between two mirrors, and when I enter a room, the first thing I check is where all the reflective surfaces are - and I made sure to check them as we passed.

And that's when I saw it. Or rather, **didn't **see it. I nudged Len, who was in front of me.

"Len," I whispered, "look in the window."

He glanced over and shrugged. "You're window shopping at a time like this?"

"Look at the reflection. Look at who's not in it."

He turned his head as carefully as he could, and I could tell he saw. "What do we do about it?"

"We can hear you, you know," said Miranda, from way up in front of us. All of a sudden, the whole procession ground to a halt.

"What's going on?" Lacey was completely oblivious.

Miranda sighed. "I suppose we should have told you. But people always take it badly when we tell them the truth."

"What truth?" Kit asked.

"You said you were vampire hunters!" I shouted at Miranda.

"We are. We are authorized by the council to capture, detain, or destroy rogue vampires. It's vicious monsters like Francois that make the rest of us look bad."

"The rest of **who**?"

"They're vampires, Kit," Len explained. "Trent noticed that they had no reflection in the window."

"You lied to us!" I wasn't about to let this go.

She just shrugged. "We never directly lied to you. We just . . . omitted a few details."

"That's one heck of an important detail! How do we know we can trust you?"

Alan reached inside his Jedi robes and pulled out some kind of medallion on a red ribbon. "This is the Seal of Vlad," he said, "given to us by the council. We've taken a solemn oath not to partake of innocent blood, only that given freely. It says it on the back . . . if you can read Romanian."

"Given freely?" Lacey asked. "What does that mean?"

"We have willing donors, who keep us supplied."

"Ewww! That's creepy! Who would want to do that?"

"You would be surprised," said Miranda. "All kinds of people, from all walks of life. Well, almost all. We do not accept silly little children in their black clothes who think being an Immortal is romantic somehow."

"What is it like?" Kit asked.

"It is a very hard life."

"Isn't that true for everyone?"

"Well, yes, but you never realize how much is done during the day, until you can't do it any longer. That's why we have our Renfields."

"Renfields?" asked Len.

"Human . . . associates. Some of them are donors as well. They do for us the things that can only be done in daylight hours. Things like banking. Grocery shopping."

"You eat?" I asked. i couldn't help myself. Then I wanted to kick myself for asking such a stupid question.

"We still have a taste for food," said Alan. "The older ones lose it, little by little, until they no longer remember what it tastes like. We don't need to eat, like you need to eat, but some of us still enjoy it. Old habits, you see."

"That is so weird." I didn't want to trust them, but it sounded like they weren't that old, for vampires. Maybe they still remembered what it was like to be human.

"We can talk more about this later," Miranda said. "It is getting closer to midnight as we stand here. If we're going to move in, we should do it now."

"What do you want us to do?" Len asked her.

"Leave Francois to us. We will deal with him and his . . . associates. You just get to the girl, and get her out. Do not approach Francois or any of his group. He would kill you as soon as look at you. Sooner, perhaps."

Len and Kit looked at each other, and I could see they were deciding whether or not to transform and go in with their armor protecting them. Would it stop a vampire?

There was no way to know.

"We have . . . abilities, that most people don't," Len told her. "We can take care of ourselves if we have to."

"Guys," I said, "I'd go ahead and change now. There probably aren't any mirrors inside."

"Why wouldn't there be-" Kit started to ask, and then it hit him. "Oh. Right."

"This takes a few minutes," I said. "You guys might want to go in now, and hold them off."

"And what will you do?" she asked me. "Use your Jedi mind tricks?"

"We'll . . ." Actually, what would we do? I was beginning to wish I hadn't come. I hate horror movies. Especially vampire movies. And here I was, in a situation right out of one of those movies, and I had nothing to protect myself. No stake, no crosses, no garlic . . . just a plastic lightsaber. And that wasn't likely to hold them off for long.

"Miri and I will go in first," Alan said. "You can follow. Be careful not to look them in the eyes - their hypnotic powers are very strong."

"Hypnotic powers?" Lacey looked skeptical. "Yeah, right."

"I assure you, they're real. You don't want to fool around with these guys. They're fast, deadly, and they stop for nothing. And they feel no pity, no remorse, so don't think of appealing to their better natures. They don't have any."

"Why are we here, again?" Lacey said to me.

"You're the one who insisted on coming."

"I didn't know there were vampires!"

"We're going now," Alan said. "Stay back until one of us gives you the signal. Don't rush in and try to play hero; you'll just get yourself killed."

"Oh, wonderful," I said, but nobody paid any attention. "Can I go home now?"

Len and Kit transformed in the same moment, and it was a good thing that Miranda and Alan had already started up to the house. They wouldn't have believed what they were seeing.

"Let's go," Len said, his voice muffled by the armor. "We'll draw their attention, while you look for where they're holding Maya. As soon as you have her, get her out. Don't wait around for us."

"And where are we supposed to go?" I asked.

Clearly he hadn't thought this through. "Someplace safe," he said, and then he and Kit both went into the house.

Leaving me and Lacey standing there looking at each other. "Oh, well," I said. "We might as well join the party."

"Wait!"  
"What?" She wasn't backing out on me now, was she?

She bent down and started to undo her sandals. "I've had it with these things." Once the left one was untied, she pulled it off and tossed it over her shoulder, then started to work on the right. In a second, she had that one off as well. We fanned out, keeping our eyes open for Francois and his gang. Outside the house, it was quiet. Too quiet. It was practically mausoleum-like in its silence, which made me think that they might be waiting for us inside. For all we know Maya might have already been turned into a vampire, and we couldn't bear the thought of her becoming Francois' bride...

"Let's just go get Maya," I said.

"Wait." Lacey picked up a stick that was lying on the ground, broke it in half, and handed the other half to me. "Just in case."

I rolled my eyes. "You watch too much Buffy."

"Yeah, and where is she when we need her?"

I had no answer for that. But I didn't have time to stand there and puzzle it out. We had to save Maya, before midnight, which according to my watch was . . .

I didn't have my watch.

Too late, I remembered leaving it behind, worried it would clash with my Jedi robes. And now, when I needed it most, I didn't have it.

"Do you have a watch on?" I asked Lacey.

She gave me a look. "I don't wear a watch!"

"How do you tell what time it is, then?"

"I have my phone for that!"

"Great! So where's your phone?"

"In my purse."

"And where's your purse?"

"I left it in the car."

"The car we came here in?" Maybe it wasn't locked, and we could sneak back and get it real quick.

"No, the car we came to Monster Bash in."

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Great! Just great!"

"What's your problem?"

"How do we know how long it is till midnight? We might have hours, or we might have seconds. We don't know!"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on! It can't be that close to midnight! We've got plenty of time! Now let's move out!"

"Fine!"

With that, we resumed our trek toward the house, as always keeping watch for anyone approaching. I held my stick tightly, hoping that it wouldn't break if I needed to use it.

The front door was unlocked.

"This smells of a trap," Lacey said. "Let's go around the back."

"No!"

"No? Why not?"

"Cause . . . that's what they want us to do. Maybe the real trap is at the back door. Let's just go in this way."

"All right, but if we're attacked, I'm blaming you."

We pushed open the front door and, holding our sticks out in front of us, cautiously stepped inside. The entry hall was deserted, and I was beginning to think that maybe Lacey was right, and it was a trap.

Then I heard shouts from deeper within the house, and I listened hard. "Does it sound to you like we're winning?" I asked.

"How would I know?"

"That last grunt kinda sounded like Len."

"Good, then we know he's still alive."

"Where do you think they're holding Maya?"

"Upstairs, probably. No, don't go that way!" she said, as I started toward where the fight was. "See if there's another way around."

"Well, I think if I just concentrate on those two flights of stairs and don't think about what's up there, I should be okay."

"Be careful."

"I will." I didn't feel very confident, though. These guys were freaking **vampires**. If they caught me, they wouldn't just beat me up. They would kill me. Not a cheery thought.

So I kept a tight grip on my stick as I walked through the hallways looking for wherever they were holding Maya. The upstairs was completely unguarded, which surprised me. I had expected a lookout, at least. Maybe they were all involved in the fight downstairs.

Sure enough, when I finally reached the end of the hall, I saw a door that was half-open, and I cautiously peeked inside.

"Maya?" I whispered.

There she was, sitting on a bed with her wrists and ankles tied. She wasn't gagged, though, and when she saw me she screamed a warning. "Trent, look out!"

"What?"

And then I was grabbed from behind and lifted off my feet by something huge. I dropped my stick - not that it would have done me a lot of good at that point anyway - and nearly screamed as his claws dug into me. I could feel blood trickling down my arms, and I was sure I was about to die.

"Let them go," said a voice from behind me. A voice I knew.

It was Len. He looked like he was ready to tear somebody's head off. Even though I couldn't see his face, because of the armor, I could tell from his stance and his body language that he was ready for a fight.

The thing that was holding me dropped me - I mean literally dropped me, onto the floor. Not a fun experience. At least I didn't hit my head this time. I looked up and Maya was still on the bed, leaning as far back as she could.

"Come on!" I said.

She lifted her tied wrists. "Hello? Still tied up here!"

Len produced a sword out of nowhere and sliced through the ropes. "Now go!" he shouted.

I grabbed Maya by the hand, now that she was free, and we fled from the room.

"We should go back," she said, looking over her shoulder. "We shouldn't leave him alone with that monster."

"He's fine," I said. "Len can take care of himself. Let's just get out of-"

Someone was blocking the stairs. Someone big.

"And where," said Francois, "do you think you are going?"

I had no answer for that. I felt like such a coward, just standing there. But I didn't let go of Maya's hand.

"It is almost midnight," he said, reaching toward her. "We have a ceremony to complete."

"Not tonight, my friend!"

Alan was at the foot of the stairs, only for a second I wasn't sure it was him. He looked so different as a vampire. The twisted, savage features looked so strange above the Jedi robes he still wore.

"You will let them go," he said, making his move.

"I think not," Francois snarled, and he turned away from us to go after his rival.

And still I could only stand there and watch, frozen with fear. It was like I couldn't move even if I tried. Maya was just as paralyzed as I was.

"We need to get out of here." Len had arrived.

"Lacey!" I said, suddenly remembering her. "We can't leave without her!"

"I'll look for her. You go on ahead."

"No," Maya told him. "She came to save me. The least I can do is find her and make sure she's okay."

And then we heard a scream, from below us. "Is that her?" I asked.

"Only one way to find out." Len, sword raised high. led the way. He charged down the hall at Francois, but froze in his tracks when he got close to the huge vamp. Then Francois started to stagger like a boxer who'd been hit in the head once too often.

I wondered what was going on. Then I saw Alan lift his arm and recite something I couldn't understand. It wasn't French, or any language I'd ever heard. It sounded like it was some kind of spell or something.

He broke off abruptly and turned to us. "Go! Run! While I have him!"

"We're not leaving Lacey behind!" Maya insisted.

"Where's Kit?" I asked.

"He's holding them off so we can escape," Len told me.

"How's he gonna get out of here?"

"Don't worry about him, he's fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. The last I saw, he was busy taking down some of the goons that raided the party earlier. We'll meet him outside, and then use the windows on the street to get back to the party."

"Kit alone against a whole gang of vampires," I said. "That's not exactly a fair fight."

"Feel sorry for the vampires later," Len said. "We've got to get to the door."

"What happens to -" I looked over my shoulder to where Alan and Francois were going at it. "Do we just leave them here?"

"They're doing their job. Let's do ours. When we get to the first floor, just bolt for the front door."

"What if it's locked?" Maya asked.

"Then we unlock it. It won't be locked from the outside."

She didn't look too sure. But then she looked back at Francois. "On the other hand, leaving here with my soul sounds like a good idea. We need to find Lacey-"

"I'm right here. Can we leave this creepfest already?" She'd lost her headpiece, and her bare feet were all scraped up.

"Where have you been?" I asked.

"Fighting off the Fang Squad," she said. "Kit said he'd catch up with us. He and Miranda are holding them off till we get out. So can we go already?"

"OK, OK!" We made our way to the front door -

"Going somewhere?"

We turned around, and there was Francois, blocking the door with his hands on his hips. Alan was nowhere to be seen.

"What did you do to him?" Maya demanded.

"That is none of your concern. And now, we will finish the ceremony, without -" He glared at the rest of us - "further interruption."

He was really mad at us, and I was sure we'd all be killed before we had time to scream. But then I noticed that he seemed a little unsteady on his feet, and his face looked like it had been smashed with a sledgehammer. Maybe we had a chance after all.

But he seemed to know what I was thinking, and before I could make a move, I was lifted off my feet and slammed into the floor. Not again, I thought, as everything started to go gray.

Then there was a clang, and Francois went down.

"Let's go!" Kit said. "While he's still out."

"How many of them are left?" Len asked him.

"Two, but Miranda's taking care of them. Once Alan comes around, he'll help her. It's up to them now. We should just go."

He reached down and helped me up. "You okay, Trent?"

"I think so."

He put his hand on my head, and the grayness cleared.

"Thanks."

"Okay, we're out of here."

In the distance, as we ran back toward the safety of the main street, I heard a bell tolling midnight. It was the sweetest sound I had ever heard.

We went straight back to the base. It was the first time I had actually seen it, and it wasn't quite what I had expected. The Control Room was all high-tech and stuff, but once we got out of the Command Center and into the residential section, it looked more like a hotel. There were pretty orange drapes and matching throw rugs all over the place; I also saw some paintings on the walls that looked like they should be hanging in a museum somewhere.

"This is so much nicer than our place," I said. "Of course, we don't have living quarters -"

Price was there waiting for us. The moment she saw him, Maya went running straight into his arms. "I missed you! I thought you'd come and get me, but -"

"I know. I would have if I hadn't been smashed in the head like that. I'm just glad you're okay."

Maya then reached up, took Price's head in her hands, and kissed him. "I'm just so glad to be alive!" And she came over to the rest of us and gave us each a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. "Thank you, and you, and you, and especially you."

That last one was me, and I felt a little . . . embarrassed about it. There was a time, back when we first started working together, that I had kind of a thing for Maya. I would have loved the kind of attention I was getting now. But things had changed, and I didn't want to make out with her in front of her boyfriend. I mean, it's just not done.

"I'm hungry," I said. "Is anyone else hungry?"

I was still reeling from traveling by mirror. No one had told me it would be so . . . glittery. How did they get used to it?

"I wonder who won the costume contest?" Lacey said absently, as we sat down in the kitchenette a few minutes later.

"I'm really not worried about that," I said. "I think the fight with the real vampires kind of overshadowed the fun part of it."

"I don't know," Len said. "I was having a good time up until the kidnapping."

"Sorry I spoiled your evening," Maya said.

He put his arm around her. "I didn't mean it like that. Of course we would have rescued you, no matter what."

"Hey, hands off my girlfriend, there," Price joked. "You have your own."

"What do you think will happen to Alan and Miranda now?" Maya asked.

"I don't know," I said.

I found out about a week later, when I found a strange envelope in my mail. I looked at the ornate calligraphy and the lack of a return address, and opened it.

Inside, on matching stationery, was written the following:

**He is dead. We are in Bulgaria on the trail of another rogue, but will be back in time for Future Con. Hope to see you there.**

The Con was in January. I had two and a half months to put together the best costume ever. I couldn't wait.


	8. Elevator Going Nowhere

It was actually pretty cool working for the No-Men, Trent reflected as he stepped into the elevator. He was working with the most advanced information network in the world, and the best equipment he could ask for. Best of all, his work station had a high-speed Internet connection, so that during slow times, he could stream episodes of _A Geek's Life _in secret. At least, he hoped it was a secret. He didn't want to get in trouble for his personal use of the company machines.

"Hold the elevator!" someone called, just as the doors were closing.

Trent pushed the button quickly, and the doors rumbled apart. Michelle Walsh stumbled across the gap between floor and elevator and grabbed onto the side rail, breathing heavily.

"Thanks," she gasped. "I hate having the doors close in my face."

"Me, too," Trent said. "Um, what floor?"

"Nineteen."

Trent was headed for the fourteenth floor. He pushed both buttons at the same time, and they lit up. The door closed, the elevator started to ascend smoothly . . .

And then there was a jolt and it stopped abruptly. The lights went out for a moment, then came back on at half strength. Once his eyes adjusted, Trent looked over and saw Michelle sitting on the floor, breathing hard.

"Are you okay?" he asked her. "Did you fall?"

"No-no," she gasped. "It'll start up again any minute, right?"

"Right," he said, looking up.

They waited. And waited. And waited some more.

"God damn it!" Michelle exclaimed, one hand smacking the back wall as if to punish it for not working. "Why won't this thing go?"

"I don't know. It's kinda funny, isn't it? We have state of the art computer equipment upstairs, and the elevator's a forty-year-old piece of crap. One of these things doesn't belong, right?"

She didn't answer right away, and when he looked down at her, he saw an expression on her face that he had never seen before. She was scared to death. But of what? The elevator? Surely it would start up again in a minute or two.

"It's gonna be okay," he said. "We'll wait a few more minutes, and then we'll call someone."

"I left my phone upstairs."

"There's an emergency phone on the panel," he pointed out.

"Oh. Right." She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. It didn't seem to help.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm **fine**!" she snapped. "I'd be better if this damn thing would work!"

"Well, yelling at it isn't going to help!"

"What are you mad at me for?"

"I'm not mad at you! You're the one who's mad!"

"I am not mad!" Michelle shouted. The sound bounced off the metal-plated walls and came back at deafening volume. Trent put his hands over his ears.

"You're sure doing a good imitation, then!" he said, glaring at her. He really didn't feel like arguing with her right now, especially under the current circumstances.

It was starting to get really warm in the elevator now, and it didn't look like the power would come back any time soon. It was just his luck, Trent thought. He was going to miss his favorite web cartoon if he didn't make it back to his desk soon.

"Maybe we should make that call now," he said.

"You sure about that? I mean, reception's kind of spotty on this floor. Besides which, we're in a building with so many dead zones it should be classified as a cemetery. You can try if you want, though."

Trent pulled out his cell phone and tried to call someone, only to get a message that there was no service at this time. "Great. Figures the phone would act up just when I need it to work! What do we do **now**?"

"How should I know?" Michelle threw up her hands. "Someone must have noticed by now that the elevator's not working. Hey!" She began slamming her hand into the metal wall, shouting up at the ceiling. "Somebody! We're stuck in the elevator!"

Trent groaned and picked up the emergency phone on the elevator panel.

The phone was out of order.

"Wonderful. So we're stuck here, incommunicado, until someone can get this crate moving again."

"And how long do you think that will be?" Michelle snapped.

"God, what is the matter with you? You're never this . . ."

"Edgy?"

"Yeah. What's wrong?"

She sighed and sat down on the floor. "I don't like elevators."

"You've been in them before. I've never seen you have a problem."

"That's because they didn't get stuck!" She was growing more and more agitated by the minute. "What if the power's out for days? What if we're stuck here, no one knows we're here, and the elevator never gets fixed, and . . ."

Trent stared at her in shock. "Are you - are you crying?"

"No," she said firmly. "The sweat is running into my eyes."

"Are you sure? Cause from here it looks a lot like you're-"

"I am not crying, Mosely, okay?"

He backed off. "Okay, okay!"

"Sorry, I'm just . . . where is that repair crew? We've been in here for hours!"

"Actually," Trent said, checking his watch, "it's only been twelve minutes."

"Twelve minutes? Are you sure? How do you know that thing hasn't stopped?"

"I can see the little numbers changing. It's okay, it shouldn't be much longer."

"Are you kidding? It's already been far too long! Why won't they get us out of here? Hey! Hey!" She began banging on the walls again. "Somebody help us! Help! Help!"

"It's okay, it's okay." He got her to sit down again before she started hyperventilating. "It's gonna be okay. Just calm down."

"Calm down! We could be trapped in here for hours before anyone finds us! I don't have any food or water with me, do you?"

"I've got some Life Savers."

"Oh, yeah, that'll help." She sat down, despair written alf over her face. "What are we going to do? We might be stuck here for days!"

"I'm sure they'll find us before then," Trent tried to reassure her. "It's only been fifteen minutes. Don't worry about it."

"Don't worry? How can you say that?" The look she gave him would have turned a lesser man to stone. "We're stuck! For who knows how long! How can you not worry?"

"Okay, you need to stop freaking out about this. Is there something going on, that I don't know about? What's the story?"

She sighed and decided to tell him. "When I was little, we used to go and visit my grandma in a nursing home."

"Okay."

"We had to go up in the elevator, and usually I thought it was pretty cool. Then one day, I was looking at something on the back wall, and everyone else got off and I didn't. Then the doors closed, and the elevator went up a few feet and then stopped. Just stopped. And here I was, all alone, in this big metal box, and I couldn't get out, and I couldn't get to my family, and . . . I swear to God if you tell anyone about this, Mosely, I will hunt you down and kill you."

"My lips are sealed."

"I mean it. Tell no one. **No one**."

"I won't, I promise."

"Okay. I started crying. And screaming. I thought I was going to die, there in the elevator, all alone. It felt like I was in there for hours, but it couldn't have been that long. Finally they were able to get the door open, and I climbed out. And I've hated elevators ever since."

"Wow. How old were you?"

"Almost eleven."

"Well, that's not so bad."

"I had breasts already."

"Okay, that's a detail I really didn't need."

"I mean it about you not telling anybody. I don't want this spread all over the building, or worse, the Internet. If I ever find out that you so much as hinted at telling this, you are a dead man."

"I said I wouldn't tell!"

"I am one hundred percent serious about killing you."

"I believe you! I promise, that story will not leave this room."

"Wait . . . you don't suppose that anyone's listening, do you?"

"I don't think so. I know there are cameras all over the building, but not in the elevators."

"You're sure about that?"

"Yeah. The elevators and the bathrooms are the only places that I know for a fact are camera-free."

"You'd better be right about that. God, where are they?" She looked up, as if expecting help from above.

"They'll be here. Soon. I think."

"I don't think I can take much more of this."

"Michelle." Trent sat down beside her and put an arm around her. "We are gonna get out of here. Trust me. They wouldn't leave us in here all day. By now, someone's noticed that the elevator isn't moving, and they're bound to find out why. We will be free, soon. Just hang in there a little bit longer, okay?"

She looked down at his arm as if it offended her. "Could you not touch me, please?"

"I was just trying to offer you comfort!"

"If I want your comfort, I'll ask for it!"

"And we're back to edgy." He removed his arm and slid over a foot or so. "I'm sorry, I was just trying to help."

She sighed. "I know. I just . . . I can't stand this! Where are they? Hello!" she called out. "Someone please send a repair crew! There's people trapped in here!"

And then, miraculously, they heard a voice. "You're in the elevator?"

"Yes!" She stood up, relief flooding her features. "Please send someone to get us out!"

"How many people are there with you?"

"Just two of us."

"Did you try calling someone?"

"We couldn't get a signal! Could you get some help, please?"

"Okay!"

"Thank you!" She leaned back against the wall and sighed. "Finally! What took them so long?"

"I told you, it's only been-"

The look she gave him made him stop in the middle of the sentence. "I mean, I'm glad they're finally doing something about it. We should be out of here in no time."

"Great. And, Mosely?"

"What?"

"You remember what I said about not telling anyone what I said?"

"I do. I won't. I won't say a word to anyone."

"Just pretend this never happened. We shall not speak of it again."

'Okay."

"Put it out of your mind. Erase it from your memory."

"I'll do that."

"I told you what would happen if I find out you blabbed, didn't I?"

"Several times."

"I meant what I said."

"I know you did. Trust me, I won't say anything. Ever."

"You'd better not."

"What do I have to do, take a blood oath? Swear on a stack of Bibles? This never happened, yeah, I'm okay with that. Now just relax."

She took a deep breath. "You're right. I should just let it go."

"Right."

"Forget all about it."

"Absolutely."

There was a jerk, and the elevator began to move upwards. It reached the next floor, stopped, and the doors mercifully opened.

"Well, thank God." Trent stepped out into the hallway, feeling like he'd just been let out of prison.

Michelle was right behind him. As soon as she left the elevator, a mask of calm descended over her features, and it was as if she'd never been upset or anxious at all. She gave Trent a warning glance, as if reminding him one last time not to say a word about this to anyone. He nodded ever so slightly, and they went their separate ways.


	9. The Worst Movie in the World

The notice was up on the Lounge bulletin board on Monday morning:

!CONTEST!

FIND THE WORST MOVIE IN THE WORLD!

WIN FABULOUS PRIZES

(YET TO BE DETERMINED)

HAVE FUN SNARKING THE WORST OF THE WORST!

NOMINATIONS ACCEPTED UNTIL

"Can you read that date?"

"It says . . . the 23rd," Kit said, squinting at the blurry numbers.

"What month?"

"This month."

"OK. Let's go find out where to sign up. I know two or three movies off the top of my head that might just be contest winners."

"Really?"

"I just need to find them," Chance said, a slight grin on his face as he walked down to the main practice dojo, with Kit in tow. "Can we find our entries anywhere, or does it have to be something we actually own?"

"I suppose we could ask whoever's running the whole thing," Kit pointed out.

"Who do you think that is?"

"Well, you know them better than I do. Who do **you **think?"

"I think you'd better take that week off. Since, you know, you're allergic to bad movies and all."

The last time they had watched movies together, the feature was some horrible piece of trash involving demons or something like that. Kit had been okay until a particularly gruesome scene, at which point he jumped up, ran to the nearest bathroom, and threw up.

"So who's the sadist?" Chance asked, as they entered the dojo.

"Maybe he's a masochist instead. I mean, who said he's torturing **me**?"

The others were already gathered, sitting on the floor or leaning against the walls. Kit dragged over a mat, and he and Chance sat at either end. "Hey, Maya!" Kit called out, seeing her off to one side, doing something that resembled a series of aerobic exercises combined with a Tae Kwon Do routine.

She paused in her movements and said, "Kit! Hi!"

"Come to join us for the day?"

"Yeah. I'm trying to get some material for my next book. I'm hoping to at least get through the start of an outline before I get too bogged down in stuff and forget about my story. My whole reason for being here."

"I thought I was your reason for being here," Price said, moving closer to her.

"Well, that, too." She snuggled up to him and leaned her head on his chest. They looked so cute together that Kit wished he had someone to cuddle with like that. He wondered if Sara, Adam's girlfriend, had a sister. Or maybe those girls on the support staff were available.

As he was contemplating how to go about finding out, the door opened, and all the Riders suddenly stood at attention. Kit looked around for a second, and then he stood as well.

"Be seated," Master Eubulon said. Everyone sat back down and waited for the lesson to begin.

Kit tried to keep his mind on the lecture, but he kept thinking about the girl who cleaned his room. The cleaning staff were supposed to be invisible, but he had slept late one morning and had been coming out just as she was going in. He was quite apologetic, although she insisted on taking the blame, and refused to report her for the violation.

When it had happened again, he knew it couldn't have been coincidence that she'd come in just as he was about to get into the shower. He'd covered up and made some dumb joke about her timing that made her laugh. She had a cute laugh, actually. And red hair, like his mother, and a dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose . . .

Gradually he became aware of someone standing over him, and looked up. "Master?"

"I was just wondering if you were still with us," Eubulon said. "You seem . . . distracted. Is there a problem?"

"No, no, I . . ." Inspiration struck. "I was thinking about the bad movie contest that I saw posted on the bulletin board. Does anyone know what that's all about?"

"I saw that notice outside the main dorm," said Chase. "Sounds like fun. I wonder who's behind it?"

Everyone looked around, but nobody was willing to own up to being the one who had come up with the idea. It was only when Master Eubulon found a scrap of paper with "bad movie contest" written on it that someone finally decided to speak up.

"It's mine, Master," said a boy standing off to the far side. Kit couldn't remember his name; it started with a G, didn't it?

"Yes, Cam?"

Darn it, not even close.

"I thought it might be fun to share some dumb movies with everyone. Nothing too gross," he said, looking over at Kit. "And the usual suspects-the movies everyone accepts as being totally horrible-are out."

"Like _Gigli, Ishtar, Hudson Hawk, _that kind of thing?" Kit asked.

Everyone gave him blank looks.

"Okay, um . . . what are the usual suspects here?"

Len rattled off the names of half a dozen movies Kit had never heard of.

"You sure those are real movies?"

"They are, here. They're famously bad movies-one of them cost the studio so much money that they went bankrupt and had to shut down. Another film opened and closed so fast the popcorn didn't have time to finish popping. We won't subject you to any of those."

"Good." Although they couldn't be any worse than the demon movie. The mere mention of the word "eyeball" was still enough to turn Kit's stomach upside-down. He wasn't sure this was such a good idea, but if the others wanted to do it, who was he to be a stick in the mud?

Cam explained the rules, which sounded pretty straightforward, and then went to get a sheet of paper to take down all the suggestions everyone could throw at him. Within ten minutes, he had a list of over a dozen titles, more than enough for the contest.

"If you're all finished, could I begin today's lesson?" Eubulon interrupted.

"Of course, Master. I'm sorry." Cam took his seat, folding the list into a small square and tucking it into his pocket. Everyone fell silent, and the lecture began.

While Master Eubulon talked about how the most effective way to solve a problem is not always the easiest or most obvious way, Kit found his thoughts drifting back to the red-haired maid. The way her eyes sparkled under the fluorescent lights. He had to find a way to get her alone some time, and talk to her, even though he wasn't sure what he would say to her. He'd never been very good at talking to girls before, but he was sure he'd think of something.

He'd thought he was paying attention to the lesson, but all of a sudden he looked up and saw that he was alone in the room. Everyone else had gone already.

Almost everyone.

"You coming," Len called out to him, "or should I bring you back a plate?"

"What?" Kit blinked in confusion. "Oh, is it lunch time already?"

"If you hurry, we can get there before it's over."

"I'm hurrying, I'm hurrying."

They got to the dining hall just in time to snag the last two available seats. There were plates of hot food laid out, and Kit saw something that looked like pasta and meatballs. He grabbed it before it was gone.

"I'm going to go get us some juice," said Len. He went to the nearest dispenser, got two cups of juice, and was on his way back with them when a fragment of overheard conversation at one of the other tables distracted him.

"I'm telling you, that is **obviously **a hand! It's only one frame, but if you slow it down to one/one-hundredth speed, you can see the space between the fingers, **clearly**."

"And I say it could be anything! Didn't Drenk swear before the Supreme Court that it was another cockroach or something?"

"It was a Congressional committee, and Drenk was a total nutjob. He pushed his way onstage at the Academy Awards and tried to claim the Best Director when he wasn't even nominated!"

"Actually, he was before a Senate panel for something else, and then he was locked up in a mental hospital - until he escaped," said a third party. "Drenk was - is - is he still alive? Or did he finally kick the bucket?"

"He's still alive," Len said. "He's supposed to be in hiding somewhere. I thought we agreed that the worst offenders aren't eligible."

"Well, I think we should have a showcase of the Hall of Shame. And we all know that there are no films more shameful than the Cockroach series."

"You're right about that," Len said. The Riders often debated what made a **good **movie (explosions being the top criteria), but they were all in agreement about what made a truly bad one.

"Worse than _Ernest Saves Christmas_?" asked Kit, who had come over to see what was keeping Len. And more importantly, his drink.

The four of them looked at him blankly.

"Sorry. Cultural differences, keep forgetting."

"Forget it," said Len. "Let's just finish our lunch, and we'll talk bad movies some more after the afternoon practice session. What do you say?"

"Sounds like a plan to me." Kit went and grabbed his plate, and joined the others.

* * *

The first movie presented for the contest was something called _Zombie Ninja Cheerleaders from Mars_.

"Oh, come on!" Chance exclaimed. "I thought we agreed: nothing with a title like that."

"It's a cult classic!" Van defended it. "There's one part where someone in the sound crew actually walks on camera, stands there fiddling with something for a minute or so, then notices he's in the shot and bolts. And they left it in the movie!"

"Like the infamous hand scene."

"Yeah, but this is actually funny bad."

The movie was a standard Grade Z horror/sci-fi flick, the kind that Kit saw sometimes on late-night TV. If there was a plot, he missed it completely. The dialogue was wooden, the actors didn't know what they were doing, and there were frequent shots of boom mikes dangling down into the frame.

"Yeah, this is pretty bad," he had to admit.

"You ain't seen nothing yet," said Quinn, who had the next entry already picked out.

The one good thing about _Zombie Ninja Cheerleaders from Mars_ was that it was only eighty minutes long. When it mercifully ended, the verdict was unanimous: this was going to be hard to top.

"Who's next?" Cam asked, looking around.

Quinn raised his hand. "I've got something in mind that I could put on tomorrow night."

"Sounds good. Same time, same place?"

Everyone agreed, and the evening ended on a hopeful note. After all, it couldn't get much worse, could it?

* * *

"_Death Truck 5000_?" Kit asked. "You actually found a copy? I thought they were all destroyed!"

Quinn nodded. "I had to shell out a hundred bucks on eBay to get this, but I think you'll find it's worth it."

"It better be," Chance insisted.

It looked like it was going to be a typical car chase movie. Nolan, who liked movies with car chases (and who had never heard of _Death Truck 5000_), sat watching it eagerly . . . until the first crash.

"Reportedly," Quinn said, "the director staged a real crash, to save on the special effects budget. Those are real people dying in that car."

"They couldn't do that," Kit said, staring in shock. "That can't be true, can it?"

"That's the rumor," said Len.

The body count kept piling up, and the camera lingered lovingly over the shots of people trapped in burning cars, screaming for help that would never come.

"God, how long does this go on?" Maya demanded. "This is horrible!"

"Here comes the hero," said Price. "In a white car, no less."

"Looks like the Mach 5," Kit said.

Everyone looked at him blankly.

"Oh, come on. _Speed Racer_? You've never seen it? Coolest cartoon ever!"

"Huh?"

"Never mind."

Everybody sat back and watched the rest of the movie. Death Truck went on a murderous, five-state rampage, pursued by Mr. White Car and his girlfriend, who was showing entirely too much cleavage.

Not that any of the guys were complaining or anything.

Finally the hero set a trap for the homicidal four by four, something involving dynamite and mud pits. And using Ms. Cleavage as bait.

"So the only thing she does in this movie is flash her breasts?" Kase shook her head. "I just love misogyny, don't you?"

"At least she's still alive," said Len.

"But what's the point? Her life has less meaning than all the deaths in this movie combined."

"Do you mind?" Cam hissed at them. "Explosions!"

Kase just rolled her eyes. "Oh, yeah," she whispered. "Explosions make everything better."

"Well, they do!"

The explosion that destroyed Death Truck was satisfyingly loud, long, and huge, and the hero rode off into the sunset with his overly endowed paramour as the credits began to roll.

"I think we'll all agree," Quinn said as he ejected the disc, "that's a hard act to follow. Any takers?"

There was a long moment of silence as everyone looked around at each other. Then, finally, Nolan said, "Yeah, I think I can do better. Till tomorrow, then?"

* * *

"It's a **musical**?"

"It is probably the worst musical in the history of the world. It's the reason they don't make musicals anymore. Ladies and gentlemen . . . _Serial Killer: the Musical_."

It was every bit as bad as it sounded. What was worse, the actor playing Jack the Ripper was wearing the most outlandish costume ever before seen in a musical.

"It's like steampunk Carnaby Street," Kit said. "Like Austin Powers crossed with _From Hell_."

Once again, his audience completely failed to understand the reference. "I can see we need to have some more **good **movie nights," he said. "Once this insanity is all over."

The songs weren't just forgettable; they were utterly un-singable. The performers did the best they could, but since the music was written in a key that only dogs could hear, they struggled from one note to the next.

"Please tell me this wasn't released in actual theaters," said Maya.

"Unfortunately, it was," Nolan told her. "It lasted almost four days, and then it was losing so much money that they yanked it from all eight theaters. It's a big hit with community theater groups, though, in kind of an ironic way."

"Like, they know how bad it is, and they don't take it seriously?"

"Exactly."

Incomprehensible things were happening on the screen. It would probably have taken a CIA analyst months to figure out exactly what was going on. What was supposed to be the big closing number went on too long, and fizzled out halfway through. Eventually, the whole thing ground to a halt.

"Anyone think they can do any better than that?" Nolan challenged them.

"I do," said a kid way in the back. Kit didn't know his name, either. "It's called _Attack of the Lemur People."_

"**Lemur **people?"

"Yeah. It's a really old horror movie. Hope you don't mind, but it's in black and white."

"Okay, Chase, bring it on." Under his breath, Nolan muttered, "Lemur people. Give me a break."

* * *

_Attack of the Lemur People _was not only in black and white, it was in a completely different language. It had subtitles, but they were so small, even on the big-screen TV, that eventually the Riders gave up trying to understand what the actors were saying, and just made up their own dialogue.

"'Oh, help me, help me, big strong man with no pants!'" said Kase, in a high voice.

"'Not now, honey. I need to stand around looking manly,'" Len chimed in, and they both cracked up. Kit rolled his eyes at their silliness.

"'I'm in this for no reason at all,'" Chance said, voicing the other character currently on the screen. "'I'm the most useless character who ever lived.'"

"'Move out of the way, Useless One. I need to be strong and manly, with no pants.'"

"'I love it when you're strong and manly with no pants!'"

"'We should go and get a room.'"

"'But what about the Lemur People? We have to stop them!'"

"'They're only lemurs. What is a lemur, anyway?'"

The others were rolling on the floor, laughing. Nobody was paying any attention to the real dialogue in the subtitles. Even if someone had been reading it, they wouldn't have understood the badly-translated pidgin English, which looked like it had been run through an automatic translator several times by someone on LSD.

"'You must be bait, Useless One, because you are useless, and you are not strong and manly like me.'"

"'Oh, let me be the bait instead! Please!'"

"'No, darling, you and I must survive the end of this ridiculous film. But this one has no purpose. He will be the bait.'"

"Oh, man!" Kit said, in between helpless fits of laughter. "Too bad we're not recording this."

"The security cams will pick it up," said Price. "The cameras don't have sound, but if I edit the video together with the feed from the microphones, we should-"

"Wait a minute. There are security cameras in **here**?"

"Everywhere but the bathrooms."

"Doesn't that . . . bother you?"

"No. Should it?"

"'Here, lemur, lemur, lemur,'" Chance called, in the voice of his character, and everybody cracked up again. Kit decided to drop the subject for now and just enjoy the rest of the movie.

The end of the movie was so unbelievably absurd Kit thought his brain would explode from the sheer badness. "You can't be serious! How could anyone possibly think that this was a good idea? I mean, did you see that ridiculous pair of glasses the leading man was wearing? How could anyone expect those flimsy things to protect them from a nuclear bomb?"

"Is that what that was?" asked Chance. "I wasn't paying attention after I died."

"Well, Mr. No Pants used Useless to distract the Lemur People while he set off a whole bunch of bombs and escaped with just two seconds to spare. Then he and the girl kissed a lot, and then it was over. I guess."

"You guess? What does that mean? Is there a sequel?"

"God, I hope not."

"Actually," Chase said, "there were five sequels, but I can't find any but the last one. They've all gone out of print, I guess."

"Gee," Kit said, "I wonder why?"

"I suppose you have something better for your turn, smart guy?"

"Not yet, but I'll find something."

"Worse than this?" said Chance. "I doubt it."

"Oh, yeah? Wait till you see it. It will melt your brain!"

"We'll see about that."

"Trust me, this will be the worst movie you've ever laid your eyes on. I hope that prize is a good one, cause I'm taking it home!"

* * *

This was the last video store in the city, and if Kit couldn't find what he was looking for here, he'd have to give up and go home empty-handed. He scanned the racks up and down, looking for something bad enough to qualify.

As if by magic, a store employee appeared. "Can I help you?"

"Actually . . . yeah. It's kind of hard to explain, but I'm in this bad movie contest, and I need something really awful-"

"I think I know exactly what you need," the guy said, and led him across the store to a section labeled "Midnight Movies". "This one's really bad, but fun to mock."

Kit looked at the case, reading the brief description on the back. "I don't know," he said. "Anything worse than this?"

"Worse? How much worse?"

"So bad that it makes _Plan 9_ look like _Citizen Kane_."

"Whoa, that's bad." The store clerk was staring at him with a mixture of sympathy and incredulity. "Okay . . . let's try this one."

"That doesn't look so bad."

"That's the thing. It starts out okay, but then it takes a screaming left turn into godawful-land. It's so gradual that you don't even know it's happening, and then you look up at the screen and go, 'Is that a giant pickle?'"

"You're sure this will do it? Our last film was so bad we were on the floor laughing."

"Trust me on this. You can't get much worse than this."

"Okay, fine. How much?"

"We're running a special this week. Two movies for two dollars each, for seven nights. So go pick out another one, and I'll ring you up."

"Gee, thanks." Kit decided to get a better movie for his second choice - though admittedly that wasn't much of a problem, as just about everything in the store was better than what he was currently holding.

"Check the New Releases wall. We've got two copies left of that new action movie they've been talking about."

"Okay, thanks." He took a look at it, decided that it was the perfect antidote to the other movie, and brought both up to the counter and paid.

"And we'll see you back here next week," the clerk said. "Have a great night."

"Thanks, you too."

* * *

"So what is this blockbuster of godawfulness?" Chance asked the next evening, as they assembled in the Lounge.

"It's an animated movie about a mad scientist who builds this freaky machine that turns people into giant vegetables."

"Are you serious? You're sure this isn't a parody?"

"The guy at the video store told me it was a hundred percent serious," Kit said. "He said the director tried to pass it off as an art film, and failed miserably."

"Talk about delusions of grandeur."

"People keep shelving it in the wrong section, too. He said he keeps having to move it from the Kids' section, because some people think all animation is for kids. But this has got nude scenes in it."

"Nude . . . vegetables?" Ian blinked in confusion.

"Don't worry about it," Kit said, and started the movie.

As the store clerk had said, it started off okay. It even had a few little musical numbers that were kind of catchy. Then all of a sudden, just as they were getting into it, the movie suddenly turned very dark. When the mad scientist's assistant started dismembering a woman with an axe, all the while singing a creepy song about brains, Kit found himself wishing he had gone for something else. This wasn't funny bad, it was just bad. Disturbingly bad, even.

The promised nude scene came up, and it left nothing to the imagination.

"I never thought I'd be so offended by cartoon nudity," said Chance.

"This whole movie is offensive," Kase remarked. "And not in a good way, either."

"Maybe it gets better?" Kit said nervously.

"Dear God, I hope so," said Len.

It didn't get better, just more ridiculous. And yes, there was a giant pickle, along with a giant radish, a giant head of lettuce, and a whole army of giant carrots.

"Am I the only one seeing the phallic symbols?" Price asked. "There's a lot of long, pointy things up there, aren't there?"

"Well, yeah, now that you've pointed it out, we notice them." Chance looked like he didn't know whether to be amused or disgusted. Maybe both.

The movie ended with the Army (a group of faceless men in tanks) literally breaking down the door and shooting everything that was still moving. They rescued the nude woman and the assistant who'd tried to talk Dr. Mental out of his fiendish experiments, and rolled off secure in the knowledge that truth, justice, and so forth had prevailed, and evil would never again threaten this happy little community.

As soon as the closing credits started rolling, Kit popped the disc out and said, "Guys, I am so, so sorry. I thought it was going to be funny bad, not horrible bad. You can go ahead and disqualify this if you want."

"On the contrary," said Cam, "I think we have a winner. It just doesn't get any worse than this."

"You don't think it went too far?"

"Let me put it this way: the next person would have to really pull out the stops to beat that. Any takers?"

Kit looked around the room. No one seemed willing to try and top this horror.

"Okay, then. We're done here. I'll talk to you tomorrow about your prize."

"You want to know what the prize should be?" Chance said. "Destroy that thing with a sledgehammer. Removing it from existence, that's your prize."

"I'd do that," Kit said, "if it wasn't a rental."

Chance gaped at him. "You paid money for that?"

"Two dollars."

"Man, you got ripped off. I think you should get your money back."

"I'd settle," said Len, "for never having to see that piece of trash ever again."

"I'll take it right back to the store." Kit packed the DVD in its case. "And now," he said, "I think we've earned this." And he put on the second movie he had picked up, the action film.

And everyone was happy.


	10. Talking to Girls

You know the one thing I really love about the new base?

Private bathrooms.

Each Rider's bedroom has its own bathroom, which means no more long lines in the morning, waiting for that one person who takes forever (I'm not naming names; you know who you are). No more fighting for mirror space or toothbrushes getting put away in the wrong slot.

I thought it would mean that I wouldn't have anyone walking in on me coming out of the bathroom, but when I came out after my shower, wrapped only in a towel, Kit was just coming in the door.

"Oh, jeez, I'm sorry!" he said, turning away. "I knocked, but there was no answer -"

"That's because I couldn't hear it," I said, "over the running water. Did you want something, or are you just here to hang out?"

"I can come back," he said. "It wasn't important."

"No, it's okay," I told him. "Do you mind just waiting outside for a few minutes while I get dressed? I promise I'll be quick."

"Okay." He went back out, and shut the door behind him.

I got dressed in record time and opened the door, not sure if Kit would still be there. But he was, leaning against the wall and staring at a mark on the ceiling.

"It's okay," I said. "You can come in now."

Once we were inside the room, he wanted to see my bathroom. "I'm just curious," he said. "I know they're all decorated differently."

"Well, it's all wet and steamy now, cause I just got out of the shower."

"That's okay. I just want to see."

So I let him have a look. "Wow," he said. "I like the seashells. It's really nice."

"Thanks," I said. We had all been given the opportunity to personalize our quarters when the new base was being designed, and I wanted seashells. Seashells around the mirror, seashells along the side of the sink, and the shower stall was shaped like one big shell. I just like seashells.

"So," I said, motioning for him to sit down in one of the two chairs in the bedroom, "what's up?"

He looked away for a minute, and didn't say anything. I waited patiently for him to speak. Finally he said, "There's this girl."

"Uh huh."

"She's on the cleaning staff. Red hair, freckles . . . I don't even know her name. I've only seen her a couple of times. I was just leaving and she was just coming in, that kind of thing."

"Okay."

"The thing is . . . I'm not sure I'm supposed to be talking to her. But I really want to. I don't want to get her in trouble, though. What should I do?"

"How many times have you seen her?"

"Once in the morning, about a week or so ago. Once I came back to my room and she was just finishing up. And then I saw her in the dining hall, but I don't know if she saw me."

"But the other two times, you saw each other?"

"Yeah. The first time, she didn't say anything. But the second time, she said 'I'm sorry', and rushed out of the room. Not like she wanted to get away from me, but like she was in a hurry to get somewhere else, you know?"

I knew exactly what he was talking about. "She didn't want to get caught being somewhere she shouldn't."

"Yeah, like that. So what do I do now?"

I sat back and thought about it. "Does she clean your room every day?"

"As far as I know."

"Maybe you could leave a note for her. Let her know you're interested without getting her into trouble. If she wants to pursue it - if she's able to - she'll make the next move. Just take it one step at a time. Wait and see if she's interested before you go for it. Give her some space, and don't pressure her."

"What if she's not interested?" The expression on his face made me want to hug him.

"Then . . . you have to respect that. She might just not be ready yet. If that's the case, just step back and wait till she decides that it's the right time. But I don't think you have anything to worry about."

"Oh, okay." He nodded. "Thanks."

"Hey, maybe you shouldn't take dating advice from someone who's only ever been out with one person in her whole life."

"That's better than never having been out with anybody, ever."

"You're exaggerating, right?" I said.

He shook his head.

"You've never had a girlfriend before?"

"Not really. I mean, I've been on a couple of dates before, but not serious dates. Mostly just friend stuff."

This explained so much. He was really serious about this girl. He was hoping that she was the one. And let's not forget the slight Oedipal factor connected to the fact that this girl had red hair just like Kit's mother. For his sake, I really, really hoped that she was interested, and that she would take him up on whatever he suggested in his note.

"If you don't do this," I said, "you'll never know. And then you'll regret it for the rest of your life. So go for it!" I put my hand over his. "No matter what happens, good or bad, I'm always here for you."

"Thanks, Kase," he said, and then he gave me a little kiss on the cheek. "I think I'll leave a note under my pillow, so that she'll find it when she makes my bed."

"You do that. Wait a minute - you're supposed to be making your own bed!"

He rolled his eyes. "I thought you weren't gonna bring that up any more!"

"Okay, never mind. Let me know how it goes."

"I will." And he got up and left the room.

Leaving me alone, and unable to remember what I'd been doing before he came in. Oh, well. I was showered, I was dressed . . . my hair was still wet. I went back into the bathroom to take care of that little oversight, and I found myself humming "She Loves You" under my breath. I hoped it worked out, I really did.

It wasn't until a few days later that I found out what had happened with the whole note thing.

He came running up to me in the dining hall and said, "I did it! I left her the note!"

"Okay," I said.

"Now what?"

"Now, you just wait and see what happens. If she's interested, she'll find a way to come to you. Just be patient."

"Okay."

After breakfast, we had training. Then we were free for the afternoon, which doesn't happen often. I asked Kit if he wanted to go do something. There were some decent movies playing; a group of us could go together.

"I don't know," he said. "What if she comes looking for me, and I'm not here?"

"Leave her another note tomorrow?"

"Won't that look desperate?"

"I don't think so. Come with us, you'll have fun."

"Well . . . okay. Just let me go get my stuff. I'll meet you downstairs in a few minutes."

We waited for him in the lobby. I was surprised it was taking him so long - his room wasn't that far away. Even if the elevator was being its usual balky self, he should be here by now.

Finally he showed up, emerging from the stairwell clutching a sheet of paper in one hand. "She got it!" he called out to me. "She left me a note!"

"What does it say?" I asked.

"What's this?" Of course Chance had to be nosy. "You getting love letters, Kit?"

He looked embarrassed. "It's nothing," he said, shoving the note into his pocket.

"It's okay," I said. "We can talk about it after the movie."

"Okay."

The movie wasn't as good as I thought it would be. We spent the whole time making fun of it, and throwing popcorn at the screen. (It was fortunate that we were alone in the theater. I suppose I should have taken it as a sign of how lousy the movie was that no one else showed up.) Every time the light from the screen was bright enough, Kit would take the note out of his pocket and look at it again, always being careful to hide it from the other guys.

When the closing credits mercifully rolled, we headed out. Kit and I lagged behind the rest of the group, so we could talk.

"So . . ." I prompted him. "What does it say?"

He took it out of his pocket, smoothed it out against his jeans, and read: "Will be in the practice room after morning duties. Meet me there." He looked at me. "She didn't sign it."

"Maybe that's because she wants to tell you her name in person. Did you sign yours?"

"Well, no, but-"

"There you go. She figured out you were leaving that out on purpose, so that you could take it to the next step when you see her. What did she mean, after morning duties?"

"I guess after all the beds are made, and the rooms are cleaned, and like that. I didn't know support staff were allowed in the dojo."

"As long as nobody else is using it. I've seen a few of them practicing on their own," I told him.

"So what do I do now?" he asked.

The time had come, I decided, to let nature take its course. "I don't know," I said. "Just be yourself, I guess. Do what feels right to you. You don't need my help anymore. You can take it from here."

"Are you sure about that?"

I stopped in my tracks and turned so that we were face to face. "Kit," I said, "some things you just have to do on your own. This is one of them. Don't worry, you'll be fine."

"I hope so." He looked really nervous. That was actually a good thing - I can tell you from experience that guys who think they know it all and come off as overconfident just turn girls right off. Give me the shy guy any day.

"All right," he said. "I'll do it!"

"Good luck." I couldn't give him any more advice, but I was dying to find out how it turned out. But from this point on, it was up to him.


	11. Practice Time

There she was, in the practice room, just like she said she'd be. Instead of her usual maid's uniform, she was wearing gray tights and a bright green T-shirt. Her long red hair was pulled back with a red elastic band. She was bending forward when I came in, so she didn't see me right away. I waited for her to straighten up.

When she finally saw me, she looked a bit surprised, like she hadn't really expected me to come. "Hi!" she said. "Um, it's okay that I'm using the room, isn't it? It is my time off and all."

"As long as no one else wants to use it, it's fine."

"Thanks." Now that she was standing upright, I could see a logo on her shirt: Corndogs, or something. I couldn't read the stylized letters too clearly.

She saw me staring, and I froze, afraid that she might think I was staring at her breasts. "Uh, nice shirt," I said, hoping it didn't sound too lame.

"I hardly ever get to wear it," she said. "They're one of my favorite bands."

"Oh, it's a band? I thought it was a sports team."

She laughed, but not in a making fun of me way. In a good way. "I have all their CDs. Maybe . . . maybe I could let you borrow one some time."

"That would be nice," i said.

We lapsed into an awkward silence.

"So," I said, trying to re-start the conversation, "what were you doing, when I came in?"

"Just some exercises."

"It looked like you were doing the Seven Forms."

She looked a bit frightened. "You won't tell anyone? Sometimes . . . sometimes, when I finish early, I'll stand and just watch the others practice. It looks so graceful . . ."

"We could practice together, if you want."

"Would you? It would be great to get tips on my form from, you know, a real Kamen RIder."

"Actually," I said, "I've only been a Kamen Rider for a few months, so I'm still learning too."

"We can learn together. I mean, if it's okay."

"It's fine with me. I don't think it'll be a problem, unless it cuts into your work time."

"Oh, no! No, I always finish my work before I - before I watch."

"Okay, then."

It was then that I realized that I didn't even know this girl's name yet. "Oh, by the way," I said, "I'm Kit."

"Alicia."

"That's a pretty name."

"Thanks."

"Do you live around here?"

"I live in the housing complex on the next block."

"Well, that's convenient. You never have to worry about getting stuck in traffic."

We had a laugh about that. Then she said, "Why don't you show me the poses from the beginning? I don't think I've ever seen them all the way through."

"Okay." I stood up straight, bringing my feet together. "Start in Neutral Form. Keep your back straight, your head up, and your feet a little ways apart, like this."

She took note of the position, moving so that her alignment matched mine.

"Now we'll move into First Form . . ."

I went all the way through with her, holding onto a chair in Fifth Form so I wouldn't fall over. She had no such trouble.

"I've taken yoga classes before," she told me.

"Oh? I wish I had. I went into this with no athletic ability whatsoever."

"You seem to be doing all right."

"You haven't seen me get my butt kicked."

"Actually, I think I have. That was you in the red, yesterday, wasn't it?"

I had to stop and think what I had been wearing for the previous day's practice session. "You know, I think I was wearing red."

"That tall guy was pretty hard on you."

"Len? He's hard on everyone. But in a good way."

"Do you know him well?"

"He's my best friend. We're practically brothers."

"That's nice, that you all get along so well. Some families don't, you know."

I wondered what she meant by that. But I didn't want to pry, especially since we'd just met. "Shall we go again?"

"When do I get to do the rough stuff?"

"What rough stuff? The butt kicking? I was raised not to hit girls."

"What about the blonde?"

"You mean Kase? That's different. Besides, with her, most of the time it's her doing the hitting. She's tough."

"I wish I could be."

"You could. We could, you know, make this a regular thing."

"Regular thing?"

"You know, like, Tuesdays and Thursdays? Same time?"

She just stared at me.

"Would another day be better?"

"Oh, no, that's fine. I'm just . . . I'm just flattered that you'd want to work with me."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Well, you're a Kamen Rider, and I'm just - I'm just a maid."

She looked so sad that I wanted to reach out and touch her, but I didn't dare. "You know, six months ago, I was just a regular person. I didn't know anything about anything. Everything I know now, I've learned in the last couple of months. You can, too."

"But I'll never be a Kamen Rider."

"Don't be so sure." I wanted to tell her about how Maya had taken the Siren Deck, after Kase had been Vented, but I didn't want to bore Alicia with all the details. "Maybe you could be, like, a backup Rider. In case someone gets hurt or something."

"That would be nice."

I knew I had no right to make plans like this without discussing it with the others first. But we had plenty of time. I'd bring it up some time, and see what everyone else thought. I didn't think it would be a problem if I was training her on my own.

"So . . . Tuesdays and Thursdays?" she said.

"Yeah, if that works out okay for you."

"That's fine."

"Don't expect to get to the heavy training for a while. We'll just practice the Seven Forms for the first few weeks, just until you get them down."

"That's great. Thanks so much for doing this."

"I don't mind."

"So . . ." she said. "Tomorrow's Thursday."

"That's right, it is."

"Should we do this again tomorrow, or wait till next Tuesday?"

That was six whole days. "Tomorrow. If that's okay with you."

"Yeah, that's great. Same time, same place?"

"We should have a backup plan, in case someone else needs the room."

"You're right." Her face fell. "I hadn't thought of that."

"There's another one on the second level. It's smaller, but we won't need a whole lot of room."

"Sounds like a plan, then. If you're not here, I'll look for you there."

"Okay, then."

I was amazed at how easy it was to talk to this girl. I wasn't fumbling for a topic of conversation or trying to fill the awkward silences. And I realized that this was probably going to work out just fine. I'd get to see her, she'd learn a new skill, and everyone would be happy.

"Till tomorrow, then."

"Oh, are we done already?"

"What already? It's been an hour. Hasn't it?" I wasn't wearing a watch.

"It doesn't feel like it."

"Do you have a watch on?"

She showed me her bare wrists.

"I guess not. Sorry."

"It's okay. I never wear my watch when I'm working out. I keep wanting to see how long it's been."

I laughed. "I do the same thing!"

"Do you hate the treadmill as much as I do?"

"I call it the Road to Nowhere. I'd much rather be outside. At least then I'd get to see stuff."

"I don't do as much running as I'd like to."

"I do more than I want to. My first day here, they dragged me out for a five-mile run at six in the morning. I thought I was gonna die."

She laughed. "Obviously you didn't."

"It has gotten easier."

"Well, that's good. Knowing that it gets easier, I mean."

"You didn't seem to be having any trouble."

"No, I guess not."

"So." I didn't want to leave her, but the time was up. "Till tomorrow, then?"

"Till tomorrow." And she smiled, which lit up her whole face. I couldn't wait to see that smile again.

"Okay, bye, now."

"Yeah, bye."

Neither of us was making a move to leave the room.

"Gotta go. Things to do, worlds to save, you know."

"Things to clean. We do another sweep in the afternoons."

"Really? That's good to know."

"Got to keep everything neat and tidy."

"Uh, you've seen my room, right? Neat and tidy are not words that describe it."

"Do you need more hangers? Or storage cubbies? I can get you some of both."

"Thanks. That'd be great."

"I'll bring them by as soon as I can."

"Okay. Thanks again."

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, tomorrow."

I think we would have stood there all night if Chance hadn't walked in on us. "Oh, sorry," he said. "Didn't know this room was occupied."

"We were just leaving, actually," I said.

"We're done," Alicia said.

"Well, hello there." Chance's eyebrows went up a fraction of an inch, but he said nothing.

"Well, back to work." Alicia started for the door, and I raced ahead of her and held it for her.

"Allow me."

"Why, thank you."

Over her head, Chance mouthed _Who is she?_ I pretended not to notice.

When she was gone, I started to leave, but Chance blocked my way. "Uh uh. Who is she?"

"She's . . . a girl."

"I know that! I have eyes. Who is she?"

"She's on the cleaning staff. We were just practicing together."

"Uh huh. Nice cowbells."

"What?" I wasn't sure if that was supposed to be a euphemism.

"The shirt. The Cowbells. Pretty decent band."

"Yeah, she offered to lend me some CDs."

"Really? And you've known this girl how long, exactly?"

"We've seen each other a few times. I was going out and she was coming in, that kind of thing."

"Totally by accident."

"Totally."

"Right." He gave me a knowing look. "Two or three times, you said?"

"Something like that."

"Which one of you finally made the first move?"

"I did." I didn't tell him about my conversation with Kase.

"Good job, man. Go out and get what you want. You seeing her again?"

"Tomorrow."

He nodded. "Good, good. Maybe you can work up to an actual date by the end of the month."

"We'll get there," I said.

"Well, if you need any advice, any words of wisdom, you just come to me."

I looked at him. "When was the last time you had an actual date?"

"Recently," he evaded.

"How recently?"

"Hey!" He feigned an offended look. "I'm waiting for the right someone to come along! She's got to be out there somewhere."

"Right." I started to go, but he pulled me back.

"Could you find out," he asked, "if she has a cute friend?"

"I'll see what I can do," I said, and left him to his workout.


	12. A Very Merry Unbirthday

"I don't want a birthday party," I told everyone, as early as November 1st. My birthday wasn't until the eighteenth, but I didn't want to give them time to start planning something big and elaborate, only to have to cancel it at the last minute.

"I wouldn't even know how many candles to put on the cake," Kit quipped. "The whole suspended-animation thing kind of screws up the timeline."

"We never had birthday parties," Kase mused, "not even in Training School. I guess there just wasn't time."

"Nobody did anything for my birthday last month," Chance pouted.

"What? We went out!" Kit said.

"That was for my birthday? I thought that was just, like, going out to go out."

"We had a cake and everything!"

"You didn't sing!"

"You never mentioned anything about singing!"

"It's customary!"

Kit sighed. "Look, I'm sorry we didn't have balloons, and funny hats, and the whole works. I thought a subtle approach would be better. Fine, next year we'll have clowns and singing waiters and whatever you want."

Chance shuddered. "Not clowns! Clowns are creepy."

"I don't want clowns," I said. "I don't want singing, or balloon animals, or banners and streamers . . . I just don't want a big deal. Just a cake is fine with me."

"Okay," Kit said. "Whatever you want."

And I thought that was the end of it. That only proved that I didn't know my friends as well as I thought I had.

You ever have the feeling that your friends are plotting something behind your back? The closer it came to the eighteenth, the more I noticed how conversation would stop when I came in the room. I knew they were up to something, but I didn't want to ask anyone straight out, because I knew if I did, they'd deny everything.

I knew how this worked. On or around the day of the party, someone would lure me out under false pretenses. Tell me we were going shopping, or out to dinner, or something like that. And then suddenly everyone would jump out and yell "Surprise!"

And I didn't know who it would be, or when. Maybe if I refused to go out at all, they couldn't get me.

What if the party was here?

There had been a lot of activity in the Common Room lately. Bags being shoved hastily under a cushion when I came into the room. Did they really think I didn't know?

On the afternoon of the sixteenth, Kit came to my room and asked me if I wanted to go out for pizza.

_Here it comes_, I thought. _But I'm not falling for it._

"No, thanks," I said. "I'm actually in the middle of something right now."

"You sure?"

"Yes. Thanks anyway. I'll get something later."

"Suit yourself, man." He left the room, and I thought, _Ha! I beat you!_

And that was not the only attempt. Kase came to me several hours later.

"We should go out somewhere," she said. "There's this new Italian place that just opened up downtown. I know how much you love pasta."

"Not tonight."

"Why? What's wrong with tonight?"

"I know what you guys are doing. You're trying to lure me out so you can drag me to the party you've planned."

She stared at me. "So that's what this is all about."

"I'm not falling for your tricks. I said no party, and I meant no party."

"So, what, you're going to close yourself in your room for the next few days until we forget about it?"

"Something like that."

"Why do you always have to be so stubborn?"

"Stubborn? I am not stubborn!"

"Oh, please! If they had a Stubborn Olympics, you'd win every gold medal! You've been like this since the first moment I met you, and you never change!"

"What is wrong with not wanting a party?"

"Why do you have to be such a jerk about it?"

"I'm not being a jerk!"

"We just want to do something nice for you! What's the problem with that?"

"I don't want everyone to make a big deal! It's . . . kind of embarrassing."

She sighed. "I don't understand you. I really don't. It's not a crime to throw you a party -"

"I don't want to make a big thing out of it!"

"So you run and hide? That's your answer?" She shook her head.

"K, it's not like that -"

In the end, she threw her hands up in the air and walked out of the room. "Fine," she said, over her shoulder. "But you can't stay here forever."

"I can try."

But she was already gone.

"And I am **not** hiding!"

* * *

She was right; I couldn't stay in my room forever. I had to come out and eat.

And, predictably, I was ambushed as soon as I stepped out the door.

"Hey, Len, I've been looking all over for you," Price said. "I need your help with a special project. Could you come with me to the Common Room -"

"Oh, no," I said. "Not you, too."

"Me too what?" He looked at me all innocent, like he didn't know what was going on.

"Trying to drag me to this party."

"What party?"

"Don't give me what party! I know what you people are doing! You're not getting me that easily!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he insisted.

I gave up. Maybe he was right. Maybe there was no party, and there was a legitimate reason he wanted my help. "I'm sorry. Let's go do . . . whatever."

"No, it's okay. It can wait."

"No, come on. I'll go with you. Don't let me hold you back."

"Now that I think of it, it's really not so important. Sorry to bother you." And he started to walk away.

"Wait," I called out. "Kase was right, I can't hide forever. Take me to this party. I'll try to act surprised."

"You sure about this, Len?"

"Not really, but . . ." I shrugged. "I figure why fight it any longer. But there had better not be clowns. Or balloons."

"How do you feel about crepe paper?" he asked.

"I can live with that."

From the outside, the Common Room looked deserted. I knew they were hiding behind the furniture, waiting for the moment when they could jump out and surprise me.

There was, as Price had said, a lot of dark blue crepe paper strung up along the walls, but not much else in the way of decorations. I liked that. Understated, but festive. I didn't see any presents, or cake, but they'd probably bring those out later.

"Okay, Price," I said, a little too loudly. "What's this thing you needed to show me?"

And that's when everyone jumped out and yelled "Surprise!"

A banner along the wall unfurled. NOT LEN'S BIRTHDAY PARTY. And they all sang that "Unbirthday" song from _Alice in Wonderland_. I was oddly touched.

"You guys! You really didn't have to go to all this trouble -"

"But we wanted to!" Kit shoved me into a chair. "Now, I don't want to hear another word about what we shouldn't have done. Just enjoy your party! Oops, I mean the party which has nothing to do with your birthday, even though there's a cake and presents and stuff. Have fun anyway!"

And, in spite of myself, I did.

* * *

We played word games for a while.

"Okay!" Chance, who was acting as Master of Ceremonies, held up the placard with the secret word, facing everyone but me. "Kit, you have thirty seconds to get Len to say the secret word. And, go!"

"Superman fights for this."

"Metropolis?" I guessed.

He tried again. "Truth, blank, and the American Way."

"I don't know."

"Oh, I know! _Law and Order _is a show about -"

"Bad acting?"

"Time's almost up," Chance said.

Kit looked like he was about to give up when something struck him. "Wait! When Price punched JTC, that was -"

"Justice," I said.

Ding ding ding!

Now it was my turn to give the clues. The word was BRIGHT, and my partner was . . . Ian.

I wasn't sure I could pull this off.

"And . . . go!"

"This is when the sun's really shining, it's in your eyes, and you say it's a really blank day."

"Sunny?"

"Not just sunny. There's a lot of light out, it's very -"

"Warm?"

I sighed. "Okay, when you turn on the light in a room, it goes from dark to -"

"Not dark?"

"Opposite of dark."

"Almost out of time."

"You're not too good at this," Ian said. "For someone your age, you're not too bright."

Ding ding ding! I rang the bell, relieved.

He looked at me. "What? What did I say?"

* * *

Enough with the games. It was time for the cake.

"No singing," I said. "And no candles! I'm not in the mood to blow out a bunch of candles."

"Gotcha. No candles, no singing. Just cake! We were gonna get an ice cream cake, but they're way, way more expensive than we had in our budget. So we got you this."

It was an enormous sheet cake with white icing. Written across it in blue letters was DON'T PUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY. In the upper left corner, in smaller black letters, was written BAT.

I couldn't help it; I started laughing. "Nice to know," I said, "that they follow directions."

"This is not what we asked for," Kit insisted. "Who picked this up?"

No one was willing to admit to it.

"So what?" said Chance. "It probably tastes the same."

"Someone get a picture of it before we cut it," Price suggested. "So we have photographic proof we can show someone."

"We can't get our money back after we've already eaten it," said Kase. "Didn't whoever picked it up look at it before they paid for it? Come on, who was it?"

Finally Van admitted, "I thought it was part of the joke. You mean it wasn't supposed to be like that? I thought it went with the whole 'not a birthday party' theme. Sorry, I'll take it back."

"It's fine," I said. "Actually, I liked the little 'bat' in the corner there. And the total and complete lack of roses or swirlies or sprinkles or anything is really refreshing. It's the best not-birthday cake I've ever had. Let's see what it looks like inside."

It turned out to be half gold and half chocolate. Guess which half went faster.

Once we'd had our fill of cake, it was time to bring out the presents.

"I'll go last," Kase said. "You'll see why."

I won't bore you with the whole list of who gave me what. I did get that Quarrymen reissue CD that I wanted. And the biography of John Lennon that had just come out. Nothing too earth-shattering, though.

Then I opened Kit's present. Under the brightly colored paper was a white box. I opened it carefully with a pair of scissors . . .

It was a six-inch porcelain figurine. Batman, crouched on a rooftop, poised to swoop down and attack some evildoer below.

"Wow," I said. "Where'd you get this?"

Kit just shrugged. "I happened to be passing Worlds of Wonder - that's the cool comic book shop that just opened down the street from my building - and this was in the window. And it reminded me of you."

I held it up, cradled in my hands. I knew just where I'd put it, too. "Thanks," I said. "Thank you so much."

"Is it my turn now?" Kase asked.

I looked around. "Yeah, I think everyone else has given me theirs. What's the big surprise?"

"I'll be right back."

She left the room briefly, and came back holding a disc in one hand. "You're going to love this," she said, putting the disc into the player.

There was a flash of blue screen, and then I heard my own voice. "Is it on?"

A mumbled answer, off-camera.

"Ready, and!" The camera pulled back to reveal two seven-year-olds in matching sailor suits, doing their little routine to "On the Good Ship Lollipop."

"Oh, my God," Kit said, unable to take his eyes off the screen. "Is that you?"

I looked over at Kase. "Where did you find this?"

"In the archives."

"I thought the archives were lost when the old base was destroyed!"

"Let's just say we had a backup copy stashed in a safe location."

"Well, lose it again."

"Oh, but you were so cute!" Maya said. "How old were you?"

"Seven."

"Wow, this must be from when the training school got started."

"Around that time."

I remembered that day. Kase had decided that we were going to have a talent show, even though it was just the two of us. She missed performing that much. She taught me the whole routine, step by step, and we put on the show after dinner that night. I knew it had been filmed, but I had thought the recording was gone for good.

It just goes to show you: sometimes when you least expect it, your past can come back to haunt you.

Or maybe haunt isn't the right word. Except for the major embarrassment of seeing myself however many years later, it had been fun. At the time, it was fun. .

"So," I said to Kase, "I get to keep this . . . record of public humiliation? To do with as I please?"

She playfully smacked me in the head. "Come on, admit you liked it."

"Well . . . yeah, I guess so."

"You guess so? Are you just being modest, or do you really not like it?"

"No, I like it. Really, I just . . . wasn't expecting you to ever find this ever again. I'm just surprised. I love it."

"You're not just saying that?"

"No, I do. Now can we put it away and never play it in front of anyone else ever again?"

"Aw, but you look so sweet in the little hat!" Kit teased me.

"She made me wear the hat! I didn't want to wear the hat!"

"You loved the hat, and you know it." Kase put her head on my shoulder.

"Okay, so I loved the hat. At the time. When I was seven years old."

"I knew it."

"I liked you in the hat, too. You were so into it. Where did you get the outfits, anyway?"

"One of the things I brought with me was a trunk full of pageant costumes. The sailor suits were only the beginning. Remember my hula girl outfit?"

"No."

"You're blushing! I can see you blushing!"

"I do not blush!"

"Then how come your face is red right now?"

"It's warm in here," I lied.

"You remember it," she said. "I know you do. You said it was your favorite."

"I did?"

"Don't pretend you don't remember! You said I was pretty."

"I did?" I repeated. I honestly had no memory of a conversation that had supposedly taken place all those years ago.

"And then you put on a grass skirt and sang 'Over the Sea'."

"Now that, I know never happened!"

Her face split in a big grin. "Gotcha!"

So it was a nice not-birthday party. We set up the karaoke machine, and everybody had a turn with it. When it was my go, I sang "Over the Sea", without the grass skirt. It wouldn't match my outfit.

So thanks to all my friends. It was indeed a very merry Unbirthday.

_(Author's note: Guess what? It's my birthday today! And you get the present! Hope you enjoyed it. :)_


	13. Note by Note

It started with a simple note on the Lounge bulletin board.

The bulletin board was where everyone posted general information; specific, one on one notes were pasted to the appropriate door. The Lounge bulletin board, and the one outside the main dojo, were for things that everyone needed to know, since those were the two places where everyone gathered sooner or later.

The note read:

**BOYS!**

**Could we ****please**** watch ****one**** movie that can't be summed up with STUFF BLOWS UP or GIANT FREAKIGN ROBOTS? Just ****one****?**

**Thanks!**

It wasn't signed, but everyone knew who it was from. The handwriting pretty much gave it away, along with the fact that Kase was the only one who ever addressed them, collectively, as "Boys."

"What's her problem?" Chance asked Kit. "It's not like we **only **watch stuff blowing up or giant robots? What does she want, chick flicks?"

"I doubt it," Kit said. "She's not the chick-flick type."

"Fine." Chance tore a strip off the bottom of a notice and wrote NO CHICK FLIX PLZ KTHXBYE in purple crayon, which was all he had in his pockets at the time. He then tacked it up beneath the original notice, not bothering to sign it.

"You know, you could just ask her what she means," Kit pointed out.

"Yeah, but what's the fun in that?"

"I just think it's kind of, you know . . . passive-aggressive to post notes all over the place instead of just talking about things."

"She started it!"

Kit rolled his eyes. "Oh, yeah, real mature."

"Like she's gonna know it was me."

"I think she could figure it out, sooner or later. Take it down."

"But she won't even see it if I take it down!"

"Seriously, man, don't be a jerk. Lose the note, and talk to her in person."

"Why should I? If she wants to leave little notes all over the place, two can play that game."

"Chance." Kit gave him the look. "I could always tell her, you know."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Wanna bet?"

They stared at each other, neither wanting to be the first to back down. Finally Chance gave in. "Yeah, okay." He took the note down and stuck it in his pocket.

Funny, though, how it mysteriously found its way back up there, later that morning. In fact, every time Kit passed that particular bulletin board, it seemed there was another note tacked up there - and they became progressively angrier and angrier as the day went on.

First he saw that NO CHICK FLIX was back up, and he made a mental note to talk to Chance about it. Then, on his next trip through the corridor, he saw a note just beneath that one that said NO TXT SPK PLZ, KTHXDIE.

_That's not passive aggressive, _Kit thought. _That's aggressive-aggressive. Is that Hunt's writing?_

Then the next time he walked by, there was another note under that that seemed to express just how he was feeling at that moment: WHAT'S WITH ALL THE NASTY NOTES, GUYS?

This was getting out of hand.

The next one was in pink marker on bright yellow paper, making it a bit hard to read. BAK OFF ITS HARMLESS.

"_Bak" off its harmless __**what**__? What does that even mean?_ He stared at it for a few minutes before realizing that it was supposed to read "Back off, it's harmless." Someone needed extra help in spelling.

Sure enough, the next time he passed by, someone had put up YUOR SPELLING IS BAD AND YOU SHOULD FEEL BAD. Someone else had circled YUOR in red and written YOURS ISN'T MUCH BETTER.

_What is going __**on**__ here?_

The situation finally came to a head when he and Len walked by the board on their way to the dining hall, and someone had posted at the top of the board: **NO MORE NOTES PLEASE!**** ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!**

"What is going on today?" Len asked. "What's with the sticky note war?"

"I don't know." Kit didn't want to implicate the one person he knew had posted one of the notes, or the few he suspected but couldn't prove.

Len was reaching up and taking down all the notes that had been posted today. "We've got to have a meeting about this," he said. "I don't know who's been doing this - no, actually, I have a pretty good idea who's been doing this. They need to stop."

"I couldn't agree with you more." Kit helped by pulling down **NO MORE NOTES PLEASE! **and YUOR SPELLING IS BAD. "Has anything like this ever happened before?"

"Well . . . yes. Sort of." Len looked a bit embarrassed. "We had a minor note skirmish once that escalated into a silly passive-aggressive war. People would move things. Not take them, just move them enough to notice. Someone, I won't name names but it's someone we both know, suddenly started playing loud music at three in the morning. Every single night. Until we made him stop."

"I'll bet that was fun."

"We're a family. And like any family, we know how to get on one another's nerves. Sometimes, some of us enjoy it a bit too much." Len held the door as they entered the dining hall. "We just have to stop it before it gets out of control. Now would be a good time."

Everyone was just about to sit down. "Can I have your attention, please?" Len called out.

The murmur of conversation ceased, and every eye in the room turned to him.

He was holding up a slip of paper, and he turned it around so that everyone could see it. It was NO MORE NOTES PLEASE!

"I'm not going to ask who posted what. But whoever it was needs to be more careful about the way they use their writing time. And if we have any more issues like this, they should be taken up in face-to-face meetings, talking with each other, instead of at each other."

"I fully agree," said a voice from the doorway. When they saw who it was, everyone stood up.

"Master Eubulon," Len said, ceding the floor to him.

The Advent Master turned to address the entire room. "Is it really so hard for us to talk to one another? Do we have to hide behind anonymous notes, pinned up on the wall? I don't think so. If we just respect each other, in all things, there will be no need for this sort of passive-aggressive foolishness. From now on, the bulletin board is limited to important notices that everyone needs to know, and they must be signed. Is that clear?"

"Clear," everyone chorused.

"Good." He nodded once, and left the room.

Once he was gone, they all realized that he was right.

"Guys," said Kit, "let's not be jerks anymore."

"Yeah, I feel really bad now," said Quinn. "It's like, everyone was doing it, and I didn't think it was a big deal."

"It's my fault," said Kase. "I'm the one who started all this in the first place."

"You're not responsible for everyone else getting out of control," Len said. "You thought you were doing the right thing. It was just . . . misinterpreted."

Kit gave Chance a sideways look, but the latter refused to come clean. And Kit was no squealer. That was so fourth grade.

"You spelled 'freaking' wrong, though," Quinn said to Kase.

"Look who's talking!" said Chance. "You can't even spell 'your'!"

"That wasn't me!"

"It wasn't? Who was it, then?"

"That was mine," Hunt said.

Kit looked at him strangely. "I thought you were 'No txt spk.' You mean that wasn't you?"

"No."

"Well, who was that, then?"

Nobody wanted to own up to that one.

"Hey, it's okay," Len said. "Nobody has to come forward if they don't want to. We're just curious. It really doesn't matter."

"I was the last one," said Nolan. "I was just so fed up with all the notes everywhere. And I didn't know who to talk to, so I just posted that."

"I'm glad we had the meeting, then."

"What I want to know is," said Chance, "who posted the one about the ducks?"

Everyone looked at him. "Ducks?"

"There was something about ducks. It went up, and then it got taken right down. Who did that?"

"Ducks? I didn't see anything about ducks," Kit mused.

"I swear, someone put up one that mentioned ducks. It was up for like five seconds, and then the next time I looked, it wasn't there. Anyone know anything about that?"

"Why would anyone post a note about ducks?" Kase asked.

Ian raised his hand.

"I should have known," Chance said, rolling his eyes.

"I was wondering if anyone found my Duck Hunt game," Ian explained. "So I put up the notice. Then I found it, so I took it down."

"You didn't notice any of the other stuff that was on the board?"

"What other stuff?"

"The other notes about - oh, never mind. Just forget it."

"Forget what?"

"Nothing!"

"No, come on, what?"

Len put all the notes in the recycling bin. And that was the end of that.


	14. Sick of Being Sick

It was raining again. It had been raining all week, and the patter of falling raindrops had become nothing more than white noise in the background. Len had to look out the window to remember that it was raining.

Some people weren't so lucky.

He opened and then closed the door as quietly as he could, and didn't turn on the light. Silently he made his way over to the bed, and the huddled form under the blankets.

"You feeling any better?"

"No," Kit mumbled, the sound barely more than a whisper.

"It's been two days. I think we can safely assume that this is not just a headache."

"I'll be fine when it stops raining."

"It's supposed to continue all through the weekend. I don't think you can hold out that long. Are you taking something?"

"On the night stand."

"How long ago?"

"An hour, I think."

"You took two of these?"

"I took four. Didn't do a thing."

Len sighed. "All right, that's it. I'm bringing you down to the infirmary. You need something stronger than this."

"Don't yell at me."

"I'm not yelling. I just - I hate to see you put yourself through this. Look at you, you can barely function. You went to bed at eight o'clock last night - did you get any actual sleep?"

"Some."

"Come on, let's go." He tried to help Kit up off the bed while causing him the least amount of pain possible. Kit kept his eyes closed and made a few grunting sounds, but didn't say a word.

That was not a good sign. Len knew he shouldn't have let this go so long. Kit didn't whine and complain when he was sick, the way Adam had, but he also didn't tell anyone he was feeling bad until it was almost too much to bear. He couldn't keep doing that.

Fortunately, it wasn't far to the infirmary. Kit could walk, but he had to stop every few feet and lean on the wall (or, more often, on Len) for support.

That really wasn't good.

"Hang in there, Kit," Len murmured. "We're almost there."

An hour later, after enduring every test the doctor could give him, Kit left the infirmary with a bottle of pills and the hope that they would do some good before it stopped raining.

"Can I go home now?"

Len smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "Let's give it a day or two. The doctor said there might be side effects."

"As long as there's not pain."

"Is it any better?"

"A little."

"Maybe you should lie down for a while. You're off active duty till the end of the week, anyway. Get some rest, and I'll look in on you later. Unless you want me to stay, and, uh . . ."

"Watch me sleep?"

Len shrugged. "I'll be around if you need me."

"I know. Thanks."

They parted company outside Kit's room, each hoping that tomorrow would be a better day.

And it was still raining.

* * *

Len had expected that Kit would sleep in the next morning, maybe miss breakfast altogether. But to his surprise, at the usual time, he shuffled in and took his seat.

There was something wrong, though.

"Hey, Kit, how're you feeling?" Kase asked him.

He stared at her as if he didn't know who she was. For a long, long moment, he didn't say anything. Then he said, "Monday?"

"What?"

"What?"

"Are you okay?"

Again, that blank stare.

"Hellooo?" Chance waved a hand in front of Kit's eyes. No response. "What's wrong? Are you with us?"

Len was shaking his head. "Side effects. The doctor said there might be some confusion."

"This isn't some confusion. This is not knowing what planet you're on! I don't think this is a good thing."

"I think you're right." Len got up, came around, and helped Kit out of his seat. The younger man looked up at him.

"Where are we going?"

"Back to the infirmary."

"Where's my dad?"

For just a second, Len looked alarmed. Then he got control of himself. "He's not here."

"Oh." Kit blinked. "When will he be back?"

"I don't know. I need you to come with me, okay?"

"What?"

"Come on." He led Kit out of the room, leaving everyone else sitting at the table, stunned.

"What the heck was that about?"Chance asked.

"You know those headaches he gets whenever it rains?" said Kase. "He's on some new medication for them, and I guess it's really messing him up."

"You think? I've never seen him like that! Good thing he's off duty till the end of the week."

"Maybe he'll get lucky, and it'll stop raining soon."

"That's not what I hear. Supposed to go on through today and into tomorrow."

"Oh, great. Let's hope they can give him something that will work a little better, then."

"A lot would be even better."

"Let's just take what we can get. I'll be happy if he's just able to get around without needing help."

"What are you guys talking about?" Price had just come over to their table to join them.

Kase explained about Kit's headaches and the unexpected reaction to the medication.

"That's a tough break," he said. "Poor guy. I hope he feels better soon."

"That makes three of us," Chance said. "You should have seen him. He looked like a zombie. There was no light in his eyes at all."

"Maybe he just didn't get enough sleep."

"No, I've seen sleep-deprived. I've **been** sleep-deprived, and it was nothing like this. We asked him a question, and he answered a totally different question. Like his vocal track was on the wrong channel or something."

"I hope they can fix what's wrong with him."

"They will. We've got the best medical facility in two worlds," Kase said. "He should be all right, once they put him on a different medication."

But that was not the case.

Kit spent most of the afternoon and pretty much all of the evening curled into a fetal ball at the edge of his bed, trying not to throw up while at the same time wishing he could just get it over with and not lie here in agony like this.

He barely slept. He would be just drifting off when another wave of nausea hit him, and he would just make it to the bathroom in time. And the headache was still there; low level, to be sure, and if it weren't for the nausea he could handle it, but the stupid pills were supposed to make the pain go away!

_I want to go home_, he thought, as he prepared for another go-round with the toilet bowl. This wasn't fair - he hadn't even eaten that much all day. Where was it all coming from?

Around two in the morning, he finally passed out for a while, only to wake up three hours later when Len came in to check on him.

"Any better today?"

"No," Kit said. His voice was raspy from all the acid surging up his throat so many times.

Len pulled over the chair, clearing the pile of clothes off it first, and sat down beside the bed. "What's going on?"

"I . . . I feel sick to my stomach. I've been throwing up all night long. Are they supposed to do that?"

"No, they're not. Looks like we're going back again."

Kit groaned, rolled over, and slid his legs off the edge of the bed. The movement caused another wave of nausea, but this time he was able to keep it under control.

"Kit, I'm so sorry you have to go through all this. I feel like it's all my fault."

"Not your fault. It'll be okay. They've got to get it right sooner or later, right?"

Len smiled and ruffled Kit's sweat-spiked hair. "Let's hope it's sooner rather than later. Maybe third time's the charm?"

"I love the smell of optimism in the morning."

* * *

"What seems to be the problem this time?"

It was the same doctor as the first two times. She seemed a bit perturbed that Kit was back so soon.

As he explained his problems, she nodded and looked thoughtful. That probably meant she didn't have a clue what was going on.

"I just want," he finished, "something that will take the pain away, but still leave me able to function, and not form a close personal relationship with the bathroom fixtures."

"I see. I think the problem may be that the doses we've been putting you on are a bit too strong. Perhaps decreasing the dosage would help cut out some of the unpleasant side effects."

"Just some?"

She smiled. "As many as possible, let's put it that way. I'll be right back."

She came back with a small, round bottle, and told Kit, "This is the same prescription we started out with, just at half the dosage. Try this and see if it has any effect. If it's not enough, I can increase it little by little until it does some good. That sound okay to you?"

"That's great," Kit said. "Thanks a lot."

"If there are any more unpleasant side effects," she said to Len, "you bring him right back. I think we've got it right this time, though. The initial medication did get rid of the pain."

"Along with all conscious thought. That's not good." Len put on what Kit always called his "down-to-business" face. "I'll keep an eye on him."

"Is it you two," she asked, "that are brothers?"

They looked at each other, faintly amused. "Not . . . technically," Kit said.

"Oh. I'm sorry, I thought you were. You seem to be really close, so I just thought -"

"That's okay," Len said. "Understandable mistake. Thanks so much. Hopefully we won't be back again."

* * *

The new pills did help, but not enough.

"I'm so tired of this," Kit said. "I just want to feel better! Why is that so much to ask?"

"How bad is it?" Len asked him.

"It's not that bad. I can handle it. I just want it to be gone, altogether! Is it still raining?"

"It's setting a new record," Chance said, "for wettest month ever. They said there might be a break in the clouds tomorrow, but not till late in the afternoon."

"Great." He looked up at the ceiling, and through it to whoever was presumably controlling the weather. "Hey, could you turn off the waterworks already? I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired!"

"Maybe one more time will do it," Len said. "Maybe eleven or twelve milligrams will finally take care of it."

"I hope so, cause I've had enough of this."

Len knew what it took for Kit to complain. He wasn't a whiner by nature; if he spoke up at all, it was because the pain had to be so bad he could barely stand it. And he looked worn down from days of unending pain and torture.

"Let's go," he said. "Hopefully this will do it."

"That's what you said last time."

"I know. I think this will really be it, though. I hope for your sake it works."

"Thanks. Thanks for having my back. I don't think I say that often enough -"

"You don't have to. We have each other's backs. At least, you will, when you're better."

"If."

"When. There will be a when. Sooner than you think."

Len was right; twelve milligrams did do the trick. It took away enough of the pain so that Kit could get by, while not making him as spacey as he had been that first time.

"What would I do," he asked, "without you looking out for me?"

"You'd be fine," Len said. "You take care of yourself just fine, most of the time. It's just that every once in a while, you need a little extra help. Don't be afraid to ask for it. That's what we're here for. We're all in this together, bro."

"I know," Kit said. "I'm here for you, too."

Neither of them noticed that it had stopped raining.


	15. Everybody Hurts

**1. Right There**

It wasn't like Kase to miss a practice session, Kit thought as he went to check on her. No one had seen her all day. She hadn't left the grounds; she had to be in her room. Kit just hoped she was okay.

He tapped on the door softly, in case she was asleep. "Kase? You in there?"

There was a moan from within. "Who is it?"

"It's me. Can I come in?"

"It's not locked."

He took that as an invitation and entered the room. Kase was lying on her bed, in sweatpants and a T-shirt. She didn't look particularly sick, but he could sense that something wasn't right.

"We missed you downstairs," Kit said. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes . . . no . . ." She sighed and then said, "It's my . . . time of the month."

"Oh." Kit only vaguely understood the female reproductive system, but he knew there was some pain involved. "Why didn't you tell someone?"

She gave him that look she reserved for someone who'd said something really dumb. "Guys don't understand."

"Well, not if you don't tell us! How bad is it? Do you need any medication?"

"No, no, just . . ." Kase looked a bit embarrassed. "Could you rub my back?"

"Sure." He could try, anyway. He made long, firm strokes along her shoulder blades.

"Lower."

"Where? Here?" He moved to the middle of her back.

"Lower."

"Okay." He rubbed in circles along the small of her back.

"Lower!"

"If I go any lower my hands will be on your butt!"

"Just above-that's it. Yeah. A little harder."

He moved in circles, then back and forth for a while.

"Oh, yes. That's so good!" She rolled over so he could reach her better. "More, more!"

Kit couldn't resist a grin. "Do you have any idea what this might sound like to someone walking by?"

"I don't care. I hurt. Help me not hurt. Just keep doing what you're doing. Just like that."

"Who does this when I'm not around?"

"It's not usually this bad. I could handle it, before. This is the worst it's ever been - except for the first time."

"What was that like?" They were heading into TMI territory, but maybe talking about it would take her mind off the pain. He'd stop her if she brought up any gratuitous details, though.

"I was so scared. I was twelve years old, and I woke up one morning, and I thought I was bleeding to death. There were only two other girls on campus, and neither of them were old enough yet."

"You never had the film, huh?" Kit asked.

"Film?"

"When I was in like sixth grade, we got called to a special assembly, and they split us up. We watched a film called 'You and Your Changing Body.' It wasn't as interesting as they made it sound."

Kase was shaking her head. "No, we had nothing. There weren't even any female teachers. Finally my roommate went and tracked down the nurse, who explained to me that the whole process was normal and part of growing up. Didn't make it hurt any less."

"I wish there was something I could have done."

She looked at him. "You're doing it. You have no idea how much better this makes me feel. I woke up this morning and I couldn't even get out of bed, the pain was so bad. All I could do was . . . just lie here, alone."

"You shouldn't be alone," Kit said. "I could stay with you, if you want."

"Are you sure? It gets kind of . . . messy."

"Hey, you've cleaned up my mess lots of times. I don't mind helping you out with yours."

"I don't want you to freak out or anything."

"I'll be fine." Kit wasn't exactly telling her the whole truth - he didn't care for the sight of blood, but he'd put up with it to help her feel better.

"Just keep rubbing, sweetie. Oh, yes. Right there."

**2. Big Brother**

Whiteness.

Nothing but whiteness.

Len blinked his newly opened eyes a few times, wondering if he'd gone blind. Then he realized that he was looking up at the ceiling of the infirmary. He knew it was the infirmary because of the firmness of the mattress on which he was currently lying, and because Adam had pasted plastic glow in the dark stars all over the ceiling of the room they shared.

He became aware of a presence at his side. Then Nolan's face was hanging over his, looking concerned. "You all right, Len?"

"What happened?" He rolled over and pushed himself up into a sitting position.

"Don't you remember?"

He tried to think. "We were training, weren't we? In the small dojo. You were trying to show me something . . ."

"Never seen anyone go down as fast as you did. You just passed right out. And I hadn't even touched you yet." Nolan's tone was light but his eyes betrayed his fear. "What happened?"

"I . . . I don't know."

His friend and teammate gave him a long, studying look. "You've been really working hard lately, haven't you?"

"Gotta keep up. I'm not the only one in the class anymore."

"We're not in competition. Don't be pushing yourself too hard because you think you think you have to beat someone else. You do what you can do, and don't knock yourself out trying to impress the new kids."

"I'm not trying to impress anyone."

"Then why are you skipping meals to get in extra practice sessions?"

Len just stared at him.

"You think we didn't know? You haven't been sleeping, either. Adam came to me and told me how you never came to bed last night."

"I had to take care of something."

"You need to take care of **you **first." Nolan's expression was serious. "When I started boot camp, my instructor told us all that our well-being was our first priority. A soldier's no good to anyone if he's in no shape to fight."

"And how long were you at boot camp?"

"Two weeks." Nolan smiled thinly. "Then they yanked me out and brought me here. But I've never regretted it."

"I've been here since I was seven years old," Len said. "I don't even know anything else."

"Just promise me you'll let up on yourself, from now on. Don't try to do more than you can safely do."

"All right. I promise. If you promise to let up on me in our one on ones."

Nolan just laughed. "You're not getting off that easy!"

"Can I go now?"

"Why don't you just hang out here a bit longer, so the nurse can check you out and make sure you're okay?"

"How long have I been here already?"

"A couple of hours, I think. "

"I've got classes!" Len started to get up, but Nolan held him down.

"They'll still be there tomorrow. I brought you your homework, if that's what you're worried about. It's not like one day off will destroy your grade point average."

"I know," Len said. "I just hate to fall behind."

Nolan put a hand on his shoulder. "So you're not the oldest one here anymore, or the best student. You're still you, aren't you? You're always there to help anyone who's having a problem. Now I'm here to help you. You're everybody else's big brother, so I'll be yours."

**3. I'm Bored!**

During the course of their studies, all of the Riders had learned how to harness their special energies to accelerate the body's healing process, to heal injuries. Some of them took to it better than others. Kase in particular was skilled at healing.

However, the process was not as effective on biological agents such as viruses or bacteria. Illnesses were not as easy to heal as broken bones. She didn't know why.

It didn't stop her from trying, anyway. If it didn't work, the traditional methods were always there to fall back on.

But why, oh why, had she been left alone in the infirmary with, of all people, Ian?

"I'm bored!" he whined, for the hundred and forty-seventh time.

"I'm sorry," she said. "What do you want me to do? Everyone else went off for a special training session in the wilderness. It's just you and me."

"Do something!" His voice was starting to fade, and Kase found herself hoping that it would go altogether. Then she wouldn't have to listen to his complaints.

Ian was restless and attention-challenged in the best of times, but when he was sick, it was so much worse. He became whiny and demanding, complaining every five minutes that he was bored. As if it was her job to entertain him.

"Why don't you draw some pictures?" she said, gesturing to the drawing pad and colored pencils beside the bed.

"Cause I can't draw."

"Well, then, write a story. You've got a great imagination. Make up a story about you and me doing something interesting."

"I don't wanna."

"Why not?"

"My brain hurts."

She shook her head and sighed. "It's almost time for your medicine. Maybe after you've taken it, you can settle down for a bit and find something to do."

"I hate the medicine!"

"Not this again." She turned so she was facing him directly. "I've already explained to you why you need to take it. You won't get better if you don't take your medicine."

"Why can't you just heal me? Put your hands on me and make me all better."

She eyed him suspiciously. He was only twelve, so maybe he didn't mean that quite the way it sounded. "I tried that, and it didn't work. It doesn't always help something like a virus. I don't know why."

"So I have to lie here and suffer?"

"I could get you a book."

"My eyes are tired."

"Then go to sleep. Take a nap for a while. After you take your medicine."

"I have to take it first?" He looked almost frightened of the prospect.

"I'm sorry, yes, you do." Kase carefully measured out the liquid medicine into a spoon, and brought it over. "Now open up."

He clamped his mouth shut and turned away.

She sighed. "Ian, don't do this. Now, come on. Open your mouth. I promise it'll only taste bad for a second, and then it goes away."

"Numph mmff mffff," he said, with his mouth still closed.

"What?"

"No, it doesn't," he muttered through barely opened lips.

She seized the opportunity and thrust the spoon into the opening. At first he balked, but then he swallowed everything on the spoon.

"Yuck."

"I know. I don't like taking it, either. But you have to. Now get some rest."

"What are you gonna do?" he asked, his eyes already starting to droop.

"I was going to go get myself something to eat."

"Could you . . . could you stay with me, just for a little while? Please?"

The request touched her, in an odd way. "Okay. Just till you fall asleep."

"Okay." He was already closing his eyes.

Well, that was easy, she thought, and started to get up.

"I'm not asleep yet," Ian said.

"I'm not leaving," she said. "As long as you need me here."

"Could you . . . could you sing something, to help me sleep?"

"Sing something? Like what?"

He opened his eyes briefly, and then closed them again. "Lullaby," he whispered.

Kase didn't really know any lullabies. She'd never really known her mother, and her grandmother hadn't been the lullaby type. Still, there had to be something she could use to fulfill that function. She tried to think of something appropriately soft and soothing.

What came out of her mouth was one of Van's compositions, that he had played for them a few nights before. The words were about love and the man in the moon, but she wasn't sure Ian was listening that closely. What was important was the sound of her voice, rising and falling with the notes of the song. She sang through all she could remember of it, and then hummed until she reached the end. When she looked over, she saw that Ian appeared to be asleep.

Good. She could go get herself some lunch, and maybe make him some soup or something. She started to get up again . . .

"I'm bored!"


	16. Ian's Story

I thought I was going to flunk out of training school. I can't focus on anything - homework, class lectures, reading assignments, anything - for more than a few minutes at a time. I just can't. My mind starts to wander, and I have to get up and do something else for a bit, and then come back to it.

There wasn't a name for it when I was a kid. Nobody understood that there was a medical reason why I couldn't just sit still and concentrate.

Nobody but Master Eubulon.

I remember the first time I tried to meditate in class. He had us sitting on mats on the floor, about two feet apart. So I thought, okay, I can do this.

Then we had to close our eyes and concentrate.

And right away I knew I was in trouble.

I focused intently on the mantra of the day for as long as I could, which was three minutes. Then I could feel myself needing to move around. I cracked one eye open, to see if anyone was watching. They were all busy with their own meditation.

I slowly, quietly, got up from my mat and stood up straight. When still no one noticed, I stretched out, bending over to touch the floor.

Oh, that felt good.

I straightened up and walked over to the window, looking out over the courtyard. I wanted to go outside and run around, do handstands on the grass, maybe practice some moves by myself. I started to sneak out the door, when all of a sudden I heard a quiet voice, right in my ear: "Where do you think you're going, Ian?"

Master Eubulon hadn't been as deep in meditation as I'd thought. And now he'd caught me sneaking out of class. Busted, big time.

"I, uh, I . . . I . . . I **tried**, I really did, but I just can't do it! I can't sit still that long! I just wanted to go run around for a little bit, and then come back and try again. I'm sorry, I won't do it again."

"Ian, come with me," he said. "The rest of you continue. We'll be right back."

I thought he'd take me to his office, so he could start the paperwork to get me kicked out. Instead, we went out to the courtyard.

"Go on," he said. "Run around, if you want. I'll be right here."

Something was up. I wondered what he was up to, but I did as he told me and got some exercise. That took all of five minutes. I looked over at him in the middle of it. He was doing some stretching, more dynamic than the stuff we usually did.

That looked like fun, so I wandered over and joined him.

"There was some doubt about you, Ian," he said, mid-bend. "Your test scores were outstanding, but your interview . . ."

"I just can't sit still that long."

"I understand completely. When I was your age, I had the same problem."

I stared at him. "You? But I've seen you - you can sit there for hours!"

"It wasn't always that way. And my family didn't have any more idea of what was wrong than yours did. It's not a behavior problem; your brain processes information differently than most people's brains."

"You mean I'm stupid."

"You certainly are not! It's like . . . the wiring, in a radio. Your radio is just wired a little differently than most. If you accept that, and understand it, you can learn to work with your brain chemistry instead of fighting it."

"How?"

"Practice. All you have to do is practice."

"I've tried! I can't do it!"

"You can do three minutes, right? Next time, see if you can do three minutes and one second. Then, if you have to get up, you can get up, as long as you don't disturb the rest of the class."

"Okay," I said. "I'll try."

"Then let's get back to class and you can practice. If your mind wanders, let the stray thoughts float away, like balloons. Keep yourself calm and centered. And quiet. That's the most important thing."

So we went back to class, and I tried. But I just couldn't do more than three minutes at a time.

"It will come," Master Eubulon said. "Just keep trying. It took me a long time to get where I am. But I got there. You will, too."

So I kept practicing. _Clear the mind, relax the body. Nothing matters but this moment. All is stillness, all is peace. _

Then came the war.

I was no good at monitor duty, unless I brought a book, but in battle, I was unstoppable. Learning to focus helped me to deal with one enemy at a time, and not just go off in all directions at once. It meant I was a weapon, under control, and not a force of nature, wild and unpredictable.

* * *

When we lost Master Eubulon, I agreed to take my turn on monitor duty, but I wondered if I could really do it. I read a lot of books. I mean a **lot **- like hundreds. Some of them I did actually finish, if they were interesting enough. Most I abandoned when they got boring. A book has to catch my attention right away to keep me interested, and the pace has to be pretty fast. I've read a lot of books that started out great, but then they got bogged down in a lot of exposition and I got bored. That was the problem I had with the Harry Potter books - I had to wade through a lot of talking to get to the action. I still haven't finished the last book, and I've been reading it for a year.

The loneliness was terrible. I just wanted someone to talk to. In either my third or fourth tour of duty, I'm not sure which, I started going down to the suspended animation chamber and . . . talking to the other Riders, while they were still in their pods.

Yeah, I know how that sounds. And I knew they couldn't talk back to me. I wasn't that far gone. But I needed to hear the sound of a human voice, and under the circumstances, my own would do.

On the second-to-last day of my fourth tour of duty, I left Van to sort through the logs on his own, while I went down to the chamber. I walked up and down the line, looking at the faces of my friends behind the glass, looking at the empty place that I would be filling in a matter of hours.

"Guys, I don't know how much longer I can do this," I said. "I hope we find him soon, cause I'm running out of things to read. Seriously, it's getting worse every day. We've been doing this for almost fifty years now, and nothing. I'm not saying we should give up or anything, but . . . I don't know. I just don't."

"What are you doing?"

I turned around. Van had found me, and felt guilty, like I'd been caught doing something I shouldn't have been.

"How much of that did you hear?"

"Pretty much all of it. I got here right after you did."

"You followed me?"

"I was curious where you were going. You do this a lot?"

"Not a lot. Off and on . . . you know, when I get bored and stuff." I ran my hand along the front of my empty pod.

"You could listen to the radio."

" I can't do this much longer. I wish we could work two at a time. At least I'd have someone to talk to."

"I know," Van said. "But it would be too much of a drain on our resources to have two Riders on duty all the time. You know that."

"Yeah," I sighed. Even two people working full-time would use up our supplies

"Come upstairs with me."

We went up to the control room, where he pressed a few buttons on the panel. Suddenly, a man was speaking.

" _. . . President said today that the war in -"_

"What is that?" I asked.

"The all-news station. I listen to it all the time. It reminds me that there's a world out there. A world that needs us."

"Yeah," I said.

"You listening to me?"

"I heard you. There's a world out there, a world that needs us."

"No, you're hearing, you're not listening. There's a difference."

"Huh?"

"You have to pay attention to people when they're talking to you. See, you've gotten by so far because you hear what they're saying, and you can repeat it back to them, and it looks like you're paying attention. But you're really not. Look at me."

"Yeah?"

"That's step one. Look at the other person while they're talking to you. Don't look out the window, don't look down at the floor, look straight into their eyes. Just like that, yeah."

"How long do I have to do that?"

"Until they stop talking."

"Oh, man!"

"You can do it. I've seen you practicing. You've gotten so much better than you were. Really, man, I'm proud of you."

"Thanks," I said. It was nice to know that someone noticed all the hard work I'd been putting in.

"You've got today and tomorrow to work on that. I'll be around. We can talk."

"Okay."

So I tried. I focused on him, on what he was saying, on looking into his eyes. But as always, I could only do it for a few minutes at a time before my attention would wander.

"Hey," he said, waving a hand in front of my eyes. "Stay with me, man."

"I'm trying. I just . . ."

"What?"

"Never mind. I'll keep practicing."

We worked on it right up until the last moment.

"You're doing fine," he said. "Just remember to keep your focus on the other person."

"I am."

"Not all the time. I see you, going all glassy-eyed. That means that what's going on in your head is more interesting than what's happening outside it."

"I just can't do it for more than three minutes!"

"You will. Just keep practicing. That's the only way you're gonna get better. Trust me on that."

"I guess you'd know."

The pod opened up automatically. I didn't want to go in there. Just when I was starting to really get this . . .

"You'll remember," he said. "Next time."

"Yeah," I said. "Sure."

* * *

Suspended animation isn't like going to sleep. One minute the pod is closing, the next it opens up again, just like that. There's no sense of time passing at all. You just . . . close your eyes, and then open them again.

Except I didn't.

I didn't know I'd been Vented in my sleep. That we all had, except for Len and Kase. I woke up in this big room full of machines and stuff, and . . . Master Eubulon was there.

"Whoa," I said, when I could speak again. "How long have I been out?"

"Only a few months," he said.

"How did we - where did - who are these-" I had a million questions, and I wanted to ask them all at once.

"I'll explain everything later. We don't have much time."

"Why? What's-"

And then Adam walked into the room. Twice.

"What is going **on**?" I demanded. "Why are there two of Adam? Where are we? Why isn't there much time? What-"

"Ian." Master Eubulon gripped me by the shoulders. "Now is not the time for questions. Now is the time to do as you're told. Or else all is lost. Come with me. We need to go over the plan before we roll out."

I followed him into another room, where all the Riders were assembled . . . along with some people I didn't recognize.

"Our advance teams will move out and hold them off as long as possible," he was explaining. "While they're doing that, Maya and Trent will enter the fortress and clear the way for our second wave to arrive."

"What fortress? Who? What's going on?" I knew I wasn't supposed to interrupt, but I didn't have a clue what this was all about.

"Everyone take one of these." He passed around a stack of cards. I took one and looked at it.

"Link Vent?"

Master Eubulon gave me a look, but said nothing. "It is absolutely crucial that everyone uses theirs in the same instant. These will link our Final Vents, and enable us to defeat Xaviax."

"Xaviax? But I thought we beat him already! How did he come back? What else don't we-"

"Excuse us a moment." Master Eubulon drew me aside. "Ian, I know you don't understand any of this, but I need you to trust me and do as I tell you. The fate of the world - of both worlds - depends on us doing what we have to do. I need you to focus, and listen, and above all, to be quiet. When we return, I promise I'll answer all your questions, but for now, just keep quiet and make sure you understand what I'm telling you. It's monumentally important."

"I'm sorry, Master."

"Curiosity is a good thing, but it has its time and place, and that is not now. You need to pay attention to my instructions, because everything depends on us now. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master," I said. "I can do this."

"Good."

We rejoined the rest of the group, and I put my listening skills into action. I paid attention, I looked him in the eye, and I made sure that I wasn't just hearing the words, I was understanding them.

And I got it. For the first time in my life, I really got it.

Master Eubulon was addressing a woman in a fancy suit. "Michelle," he said, "you will monitor us from here. You and your people are our last line of defense. Should we fall . . . you are all that's left."

"We won't," I said. Everyone turned to look at me. "We will not fail you, Master."

"For Ventara," he said, "and Earth."

"For Ventara and Earth!" we echoed. As war cries went, it wasn't bad.

* * *

Well, obviously, we won that battle. It took everything we had, but we beat Xaviax. Hopefully for good this time.

I did have one moment, when everyone else was pulling out their cards, when I didn't know what was going on. Then I focused, and went over in my mind what I had been told.

_The Link Vent . . . right._

I pulled it out of my Deck and waited for the signal. I'd never been good at waiting, but . . . this was important. If we weren't perfectly synchronized, the Link Vent wouldn't work. I didn't want to be the one who ruined it for everyone.

And then the right moment came. And . . . voom! It was so incredible, to be a part of that.

And then it was over, and we were all standing around staring at each other.

"Riders," Master Eubulon said, "there is still much to be done." And he laid it all out for us. It sounded like a lot, but I thought _Yeah, I can do that. I'll do it all!_

And we passed through the portal to Karsh.

On the other side, he gave us all specific instructions. Mine sounded pretty easy: round up all the captured Ventarans and bring them back to the retrieval point so they could be transported home. I would be working with the new guy, Kit, who was Adam's double. Adam would not be joining us, for reasons of his own. I mean, sure, he had betrayed us, but he had been tricked into it, and in the end, he had come through for us. So it all balanced out.

As we all set out on our various missions, Master Eubulon called me over. I wondered what I had done now.

But his first words to me were, "I'm very proud of you, Ian."

Huh?

"You know, when you first arrived at the Training School, there were some who said you'd never make it through the program. They said you'd never settle down and actually learn anything. But I knew differently. And here we are."

"Yeah," I said. "Here we are."

"I had most of you picked out on the first day. Some, I wasn't quite sure about. But I never had any doubts about you, Ian, not at all. You belong with us. In spite of your . . ."

"Faulty brain wiring?"

"I said it was different, not faulty. Your brain works just fine; it just doesn't work in the same way as someone else's. And that's just the way I want it."

He patted me on the shoulder paternally. "Now you can get to work."

So I did. Kit turned out to be a good kid, a lot like Adam, but . . . a little more together.

"So you just found the deck on your kitchen counter, and didn't think anything of it?"

"Yeah," he said. "So much happened so fast that I didn't know what to think. But once I became a Kamen Rider, it was like . . . this is where I belong. This is what I should be doing."

"Yeah, I know," I said. "That's how I feel."


	17. Christmas Party, part 1

It was the first time I had been to Ventara, and I didn't know what to expect.

"It's just like here," Kit told me. "With a few . . . minor differences. Most of them aren't that important.

"Maybe not to you," I said, "but I think it's important that Erik Estrada became Governor of California." _ChiPs _was the reason I got into motorcycles. Erik and . . . the other guy, I can never remember his name . . . they were so cool. I wanted to be that cool.

"Yeah, whatever," he said. Clearly no respect for cool. I let it go.

We could have just entered through the mirror on the back of the closet door, but Len wanted to see all the lights downtown, so we walked around for a while, looking for someplace where our disappearance wouldn't be noticed.

"They're so beautiful," Len said, looking up at the wreaths decorating the street lights. "I've never seen anything like it."

"Never?" Kit asked him.

"No. We never had all this before. I like how they're all white."

"Yeah, I like white lights too," I said. "I was thinking about putting white lights on our tree. But it's hard to find just the white ones. Usually all the colors come together."

We walked down to Gramercy Park, which had its own fifty-foot Christmas tree, all lit up and sparkling. We stood across the street and just admired it.

"You never had a Christmas tree?" Kit persisted.

"Yeah, we had a tree." Len couldn't take his eyes off that glorious tree. "With one little rinky-dink string of lights. And a menorah on top. And a Buddhist shrine beside it. And it was never a big deal, till this year. I guess . . . we just felt like we had a lot to celebrate."

"Well, yeah," I said. "Saving the world, I'd say that calls for a big party."

We found a nice spot with a big plate glass window, with nobody around, that we could use as our point of access. Once we dragged Len away from the tree, we got ready to go.

"Now just hold onto my hand," Kit said to me. "I don't want you to get lost in there."

I had to smile at that. He gave me a weird look. "What?"

"Just like your first day of school. Remember how I had you hold my hand crossing the street?"

"I remember."

"Talk about a role reversal."

"Hurry up," Len said, "before someone comes."

I felt Kit's hand close around mine. "You might want to close your eyes," he said. "It can be a little . . . disorienting, especially the first time. Just trust me and hang on."

"I will."

"Now take one step forward."

It felt like . . . like moving very fast while staying in the same place. I kept my eyes closed, but I could see light even through my closed eyelids. Kind of a flickering. Then, all of a sudden, we stopped moving.

"Okay, Dad," Kit said. "You can look now."

Slowly I opened my eyes. We were standing in a big, empty room, with mirrors all around. No, on three walls - the fourth was taken up with a lot of computer equipment, unmanned at the moment.

"This is the Travel Chamber," he said.

"What, don't you believe in front doors?"

"Doors? We don't need no stinkin' doors." We laughed, but I was starting to get worried. Where was Len? Wasn't he right behind us?

There was a sudden whooshing sound from behind us. I knew that sound. I turned, and there he was, just stepping through, unzipping his jacket.

"Sorry," he said. "I wanted pictures."

"Where do we go now?" I asked.

"This way."

I stuck close behind them, not wanting to get lost. I wasn't sure how big this place was, but I've been known to get lost in my own bedroom, without a map to follow. I have to say, it wasn't what I expected at all. I thought it would be all shiny metal and high-tech devices, but once we left the Travel Chamber, we passed through a wood-paneled hallway where we hung our jackets, and from there down a flight of stairs and then through big double doors into a huge room glittering white and green.

"This is normally our Main Meeting Room," Kit explained, "but it was the only space big enough to hold a lot of people without mats on the floor. You want some punch?"

"Sure, thanks." At first glance, the room looked empty. But then I noticed a small cluster of people around a piano on the far side of the room, where a dark-skinned young man was playing something jazzy.

"Hi, Dad." Kase saw me coming and rushed to meet me. "So, what do you think?"

"Who did the decorating?"

"We all pitched in. The guys went a little crazy with the snow spray, but it wipes right up. Come sit down. You want something to eat?"

"I'm good right now, thanks. Kit's getting me some punch." I sat in one of the plush folding chairs that had been set up around the piano. "You look nice. Is that dress new?"

"Oh, no," she said. Was she actually blushing? "I bought it last year. I just never get much of a chance to wear it."

"You should. That color looks good on you. Brings out your eyes."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it." I sat and listened to the music while she made the rounds. I had no idea where Kit was, but right now I didn't mind. Whoever this kid was, he sure could play.

"That was nice," I said, when the piano player was finished. "Who's that by?"

"Well . . . me," he said.

"You compose?"

"He gave up a scholarship to the best music school in the country to be here." Kit handed me a paper cup.

"Really?" I looked at this prodigy with newfound respect. "Sounds like there's quite a story there."

He shrugged. "I just wanted to live my own life, and not just go through the motions of what everyone else wanted for me."

"Sounds reasonable to me."

"I don't think we've met yet, by the way," he continued. "I'm Van."

"Call me Frank. What else have you got in your repertoire?"

"Oh, you'd be surprised."

He played some selections from _The Nutcracker_, and then a few of the songs from _A Charlie Brown Christmas_, and even _The Chipmunk Song_.

Then they brought in the karaoke machine.

Two boys who looked vaguely familiar hauled it through the door, to the front of the room. The thing was huge, taking up all the space between the tree and the windows.

"Aw, no! No, no, **no**!" someone behind me exclaimed. "Not this time! I won't stand for it!"

"Yes, this time." Kit had the microphone. "We're all gonna sing Christmas carols before we decorate the tree, so start thinking about what you want to sing while we wait for everyone else to get here."

"What if we don't know any?" That was a different person from the back of the room. I wondered who was too shy to show their faces.

"That's what Google is for. And it's probably better if we all choose different songs, so these nice folks don't have to hear twelve versions of 'Jingle Bells'. Guests can come up and sing if they want to, but we **have** to. You're not getting out of this one, Len. We have a song all picked out for you."

I saw Len over by the buffet table, looking resigned. I don't know what his problem was; he has a nice voice. I've heard him, once or twice, when he thought no one was around. I don't know what he's so afraid of. I guess he just doesn't feel that he can carry a tune well enough to perform in public. He hasn't been out to karaoke nights that would make the _American Idol _auditions look like grand opera.

The next thing I knew, Kit was beside me. "Ready for that tour now?"

"Now?"

"We still have to wait for a few more people. I can show you the basics in a few minutes. C'mon."

Well . . . okay. I followed him out of the room. Our first stop was the elevators.

"These used to be voice-activated," he told me, "but that made it hard to hold a conversation. So we went back to the regular button-type."

"Yeah, I can see where that would be a problem."

I thought the thing would take forever to get to our floor, but it came down so fast the numbers were a blur. The doors opened and a couple of people got off. I didn't know them, but Kit said hello, and they said hello to him.

"Who are all these people?" I asked him.

He shrugged. "They work in the building. Cleaning staff, tech support, catering, that sort of thing. Cause, y'know, we can't clean up after ourselves, or cook, or anything."

"How many are there, altogether?"

"I don't know. Eighty, ninety, something like that."

"Wow. Who pays for all that?"

"The government. I guess. I never really asked."

The elevator stopped at our floor. I looked up. We'd gone from the first floor to the fifth in no time at all, and I hadn't even noticed the ride. Kit motioned to me, and I followed him out.

"This is the dormitory level," he said. "Everyone has their own room here. Mine is this way."

The doors didn't have names or numbers, I noticed, just the Rider symbols. I couldn't remember which was which, but I knew Kit's. He pressed a code into the keypad by the door and it slid open smoothly.

"I only lock it when I go out," he said. "Not that it matters - we all know each other's codes anyway."

At first, the room looked a little dark. Then I realized that it looked dark because it was all in red and black. And because it was a little on the small side. There was a bed, a dresser, a mirror, and a chair. And that was pretty much it. Oh, and a closet.

I opened the door to take a look, and it wasn't a closet. It was a bathroom, just big enough for a shower stall, a sink, a towel rack, and a commode. And also in red and black.

"All the bedrooms have their own private bathrooms," he told me. "So we're not fighting for sink space in the morning."

"It's nice," I said. It was really classy, elegant, despite the dark colors. "Are all the rooms like this?"

"Pretty much. We all put our personal touches on them, but yeah, basically they're all the same. All different colors, though."

"No borrowed furniture. No clanking pipes in the middle of winter."

"I liked the clanking pipes! I used to pretend that little people were sending each other secret messages."

"What kind of messages?"

"I don't know. They were secret." He grinned impishly, and I wanted to ruffle his hair, but I didn't think he'd appreciate it. Since he'd actually combed it and all.

"There's a kitchenette down here," he said, leading me out of the room. "That's where we hide all our snacks and stuff. And . . . there's nobody in here."

"Were you expecting somebody?" I asked.

"They're probably in the Common Room. That's on the next floor down. Let's take the stairs instead of the elevator."

The stairs were behind an unassuming door. The door, in turn, was flanked by a wooden frame with designs carved into it. I reached up and touched one as we passed through. It seemed to be some kind of symbol, like Chinese or Japanese writing.

"They're Karshian protection runes," Kit explained. "We have them around most of the doors here. It's an old, old tradition, as I understand it."

"That's . . . Master Eubulon's people, right?"

"Yeah."

"Is he coming?"

"He said he was. He just had some stuff to finish up first, I think."

"Is he going to sing?"

Kit smirked at me. "Probably not. We're here."

The door on the second-floor landing opened onto a hallway virtually identical to the one we had just left upstairs. I wondered if all the floors looked alike, or if there were variations in paint or wall hangings or something. But I didn't have too much time to look around, because we were off.

"Slow down, kiddo! I don't want to get lost in this place!"

"Just keep going!" he called back to me. "You'll end up back where you started!"

"I don't want to lose you, either."

Finally he slowed down, and then ducked inside a doorway on the right. I followed him.

The first thing I saw was the enormous TV. It had to be at least thirty-six inches, maybe as much as forty. I wanted a TV like that, except that I had nowhere to put it. It was tuned to some sporting event.

" _. . . five-time champion Brad Barrett. Brad, you were suspended six months ago for allegedly tampering with another competitor's bike. However, that decision was overturned when new evidence turned up proving that someone else was behind the sabotage. How did you cope with those events?"_

"_Well, Chuck, I just want to thank everyone who stood by me and believed in me, especially my buddy Joe. I'm glad to be back, and I'd never do anything to hurt someone else."_

"What the heck did you **do **to him?" the boy sprawled sideways in the easy chair asked.

"I didn't do anything! We just talked."

"What did you say to him, then?"

That was when I got a good look at the other boy, and noticed that he was the virtual twin of the one on the screen. Kit had explained mirror twins to me, but it was still a shock.

"I just . . . suggested that he might want to try a little thing called humility."

"Seems to be working."

"Yeah, I'm happy for him."

"Hey, guys," Kit greeted them.

The boy in the chair nearly fell on the floor. "Oh, Void! Party starting already?"

"It's about to. Guys, this is my dad. Dad, this is Ian** -**" the chair-sitter **-** "and Cam."

"It's nice to meet you both," I said.

Cam switched the TV off and got up to greet me. "How do you do, sir?"

"Very well, thank you."

Ian was still struggling to disentangle himself from the chair. "Did I miss the singing yet?"

"Not yet. I hope you picked out something good."

"I wanna go last. You'll see why." He stopped fighting the chair and just rolled over onto the floor, then got up from there.

Kit shrugged. "Fine. Let's go."

"Where's what's-her-name?" Cam asked him.

"She, um . . . she couldn't make it. Some family thing. I told her I'd see her after the holiday. It's cool."

"Remind me to give you that tape back, by the way. Thanks for recording that for me."

"Oh, no problem. Any time."

By the time we got back down to the party, the room was almost full. There were a lot more than eighty or ninety people, and I suspected that many of them had brought spouses, friends, or other family members. Kit introduced me around. He seemed so proud, and really, I hadn't done anything. I was the one who should be proud of him. And of course I was.

I saw Maya waving at me from across the room and went over to join her.

"Hi, Mr. Taylor!"

"Hi, Maya. Hi, John."

"It's Price, actually," he said.

I winked. "I was just teasing you. I heard a rumor there's going to be a big announcement later. Would you happen to know anything about that?"

Maya blushed. "It's not us," she said. "I wish. Len is proposing to Kase tonight."

"Say what?" I gaped at her. I hadn't seen this coming.

"Actually," Kit said, "he already did. They went out earlier in the week, and he asked her then, so he wouldn't be ambushing her in front of everyone."

"So she knows?" Price asked him.

"Yeah, she knows. But nobody else knows, so don't spoil the surprise, okay?"

"I wouldn't mind being asked in front of everyone," Maya said. "I mean, not, like, at a sporting event or anything. But at something like this, in front of our closest friends . . . that would be nice."

"I hope you're taking notes," I said to Price.

"I am." He slipped an arm around her and held her close.

I had to smile. They're so cute together.

The karaoke wasn't too bad at all. Most of them stuck to the old standards - "Rudolph," "Frosty," "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" - that last delivered by Trent in a screaming Springsteen impression that I didn't think he had in him. You could tell he was having fun with it, too.

Lacey and the Tuan Brothers did "Sleigh Ride," Black Eyed Peas-style. (What, just because I'm middle-aged, I can't be hip?) They were good.

"They must have been practicing this all week," I said.

Maya looked at me. "You didn't know? Lacey and Hunt have been going together for a couple of months now."

"Really?" Kit seemed surprised. "Talk about opposites attracting."

A few of the guests sang, too. There was this woman who Kit said was head of the catering staff, who sang a heartbreaking rendition of "Merry Christmas Darling." I had wanted to do that one, but after hearing her, I knew there was no way I could follow.

Maybe I could wait till next year.

_To be continued!_


	18. Christmas Party, part 2

So far, it had been an entertaining evening. The music was great, the decorations were lovely, and the company was outstanding.

And we hadn't even done the tree yet.

"You having a good time?" Kit asked me.

"Oh, yeah. I'm glad I came."

"Boy, you people went all out for this."

I turned around . . . and did a double-take. I knew about mirror twins, and I knew that Kit had one, but . . . this was just mind-blowing.

"Dad," Kit said, "this is Adam."

"Hi."

"You guys are gonna have to wear name tags to the next party," I said, looking from one to the other. "Or at least wear different-color shirts."

"See, I told you to wear the blue one," said a young lady coming over from the buffet table. "You never listen to me!"

"I listen!" Adam protested.

"Only when you want to."

"Guilty," he said sheepishly. "This is Sara. Sara, this is Kit, and his dad."

"Call me Frank," I said. "You look very nice, Sara. That color suits you."

"Thank you," she said.

"See, that's why I didn't want to wear the blue shirt," Adam said. "We would have clashed. Blue with marigold? Never!"

"Oh, you don't care what you wear!" she teased him.

"Are you going to sing?" I asked them.

Adam shrugged. "I don't think so. How far along are they?"

"Well, Len hasn't gone yet," Kit said. "And Ian said he has something special planned for the finale. I think everyone else has done it, though."

As it turned out, they weren't quite finished. Nolan and Quinn sang a beautiful hymn in Spanish. I didn't know the words, but the sound of the language was just so beautiful. I've always wanted to learn Spanish. Maybe, I thought, once I'm on my own, I can take classes or something.

Then Len took the stage, and I saw what Kit had meant when he said they had something special picked out. It was John Lennon's Christmas song, "Happy Xmas (War is Over)." I've never much cared for the song, mostly because of Yoko's off-key screeching. I don't hate her like some Beatles fans do, but whoever told that woman she could sing must have been deaf.

But Len **could** sing. I honestly didn't see why he had reservations about singing in public.

I looked around the room and saw Master Eubulon standing over by the tree. He didn't seem to be busy, so I went over to talk to him.

"Glad to see you made it," I said.

He nodded. "They did a good job putting this together, didn't they?"

"Oh, absolutely. They're a great bunch of kids."

"I never had children of my own. Biological children, I mean. In my mind, they're all my children, every one of them unique and special." He took a swig from his bottle of water. "You know, I had most of them picked out the first day I saw them. There were a few I wasn't sure of. Kit was one of those. But for someone with no formal training, he's done just fine."

"He seems to like it here," I said.

"I've told him that when he's ready, he can move in here full-time. But he said . . . he said you still need him."

I didn't know what to say. "We haven't . . . really talked about it yet. I know it's coming, though. I always knew it would. Just not . . . not so soon."

He said nothing, just nodded.

"I mean, it feels like I've been gone more than just a year. He's come so far, he's almost like a different kid. I can't believe he's . . . grown up already."

"It's the same with my children," Eubulon said. "Adam was nine when he came to us. He was the smallest one in the class, and no one thought he'd last long."

"Except you."

"It was hard to say goodbye to him, but . . . his life has taken a different path. But, I told him, our door is always open. Just because he's left doesn't mean he can't come back."

"Hmm." That was something to think about.

Len finished his song, and announced, "If anyone else would like to sing, come on up now. Anyone?"

No one else was up to the challenge, it seemed.

"Okay, Ian, you're on."

Ian bounced up onto the stage and grabbed the mike. "Okay, folks, I have something very special for you! I've put together a little number I call 'Short Attention Span Christmas.' I know you'll like it. Sing along if you feel like it!"

"Short Attention Span Christmas," it turned out, was a medley of the first line or lines of every Christmas song in existence. Most of them I recognized; there were a couple I didn't. By the end, everyone was singing along - if they could keep up.

He ended with a big finish, doing a backflip off the stage and landing on his knees, his arms spread wide. "Good night, everybody!"

"Wait, where are you going?" Chance asked him.

"I'm done."

"We still have to do the tree!"

"Oh, right. But it was good, right?"

"I can honestly say I've never heard anything like it before."

"Is that good?"

"That's really good."

Master Eubulon stepped to the table beside the tree and called for everyone's attention. "At this time," he said, "I'd like the Riders to step forward and place your ornaments on the tree."

There were ornaments in the different colors lined up along the edge of the table. But I counted them, and there were thirteen.

"You too, Adam. You'll always be part of this family."

Adam looked surprised, but he went up and took a black ornament with a silver emblem on it, hanging it on the lowest branch.

When they were finished, the tree looked better. But still not done yet.

"And now if the guests could each take one of the ornaments from the box . . . any one you want. Be careful with them, they're fragile. Don't get hurt."

I went up and reached into the box, and came out with a blue ball in the shape of a toy soldier. I gaped at it.

"What's wrong, Dad?" Kit asked.

"Your mother and I used to have one like this," I said. "The first year we were married. We were moving boxes one year and a lot of the ornaments got broken. It was so sad. Your mother loved the little soldier. She named him Nigel."

"She named it?"

"She named everything. It was her thing."

I hung Nigel right under the red and black ball. It just felt like it belonged there.

When all the ornaments were in place, someone flipped the switch, and the tree lit up. It was so beautiful. And yes, there was a tiny menorah on top.

Suddenly Master Eubulon raised his hand, and the entire room went silent.

"I've just received word that the governor is on his way here. Who would like to go down and escort him in?"

Len and Nolan looked at each other, nodded, and stood up in the same instant.

"Thank you. Carry on, everyone."

I wasn't too concerned until I realized who the governor was here.

"Oh, my gosh! He's coming **here**? How's my hair?"

Kit just laughed. "Dad, you look fine! Don't worry!"

"Don't worry? This man is my idol! I have worshipped him from childhood! Why's he coming here, anyway?"

"I don't know. I guess we'll find out in a few minutes."

There was a murmur of excited conversation all around us. I gathered that a visit from the governor was not an everyday occurrence.

"Somebody find the state anthem of California!" Ian was madly pressing buttons on the karaoke machine, a sure sign that he had no idea how to work it. "What **is** the state anthem of California?"

"Let me look it up." Price had his smartphone out, and he called up Google with a few taps here and swipes there. "It says that the California state song is called 'I Love You, California.' Never heard of it."

"Do we have it? Can we get it? Is there a link for a download?"

"Calm down! Let me look." He went up and flipped through the song listings, but I guess it wasn't there. "Not to worry. We'll find something."

"Actually, I think I have the sheet music for that," Van said. "Hang on, I'll find it."

By the time he dug it out, the governor was on his way up. He barely had time to get the music set up and find the first notes when the doors opened and our honored guest entered, flanked by his escorts.

The governor had two assistants and a photographer with him. He looked good - a little older, a little grayer than he had been on TV, but that was thirty years ago, after all. We're all getting older. He was carrying a wrapped present that looked book-shaped. I wondered who it was for.

"It's an honor to have you here, Governor Estrada," Master Eubulon greeted him.

"It's good to be here. Place looks nice."

He was introduced to all the Riders, and when he came over to us, I thought I'd die.

"This is Kit Taylor, Dragon Knight," Len said, "and his father, Frank."

"How're you doing?"

I was shaking his hand! And probably staring like an idiot. Finally I found my voice. "It's an honor to meet you, sir. I'm a long-time fan."

"That's good. Good to hear it."

"I wonder . . . could I get a picture, by any chance?"

"Oh, sure. Mike!" He called out to the photographer, who was getting candids of the room. "Come over here!"

We posed with Kit on his left and me on his right. I tried my best to contain my excitement, but I don't think I did very well. I think I actually squealed when the flash went off.

"Can I get a copy of that?" I asked.

The photographer, Mike, nodded. "Want it e-mailed to you, or hard copy?"

"Just send it here," Kit said. "I'll see that he gets it."

"Could I have everyone's attention, please?" Governor Estrada said.

Everyone quieted down and turned toward the front of the room.

"I can't stay long," he said. "I'm on my way to another party, but I just wanted to stop by and thank you for all your hard work on the Toy Drive."

"What toy drive?" I asked Kit, in a whisper.

"We just collected toys for the kids here," he said. "No big deal."

Something clicked. "That big bag from Toys 'R Us you were hiding in the closet . . . that's what that was all about?"

He shrugged.

"Thanks to you," the governor went on, "Hundreds of families across our great state will have something to open Christmas morning. So in appreciation, I have this for you." He made a big show of presenting the gift to Master Eubulon, with the photographer getting every movement he made.

Eubulon opened it. "It's a plaque," he announced. "'In gratitude for your work on the Children's Charity Toy Drive, December, 2007. Governor Erik Estrada.' That's very nice. Thank you. We'll put it right here, where everyone can see it."

He held it up against a blank place on the wall, and Mike snapped some more photos.

"It was very nice to meet you all," Governor Estrada said. "I have to be going now, but I hope I can count on you all next year. We'll make it even bigger!"

To cheers and thunderous applause, he made his exit, so abruptly that he left one of the assistants behind. The man put down his glass of punch and hurried to catch up.

"Well," Master Eubulon said, "that was nice. We'll have to put that up tomorrow." He slid the plaque back into its box and set it on one of the tables.

"I have something to say," Len said. He went up to the stage and took the mike. "I was going to wait until later, but since we're all in a good mood now, I guess now is as good a time as any. You all know that Kase and I have been going together for a long time now."

A few people who were beginning to settle down now sat up and took notice. _Here it comes, _I thought.

"Kase, sweetheart, come on up here."

I have to say, her acting was Oscar-worthy. She looked around in surprise, then, at everyone's urging, joined him on the stage. She looked like she didn't have a clue what this was all about.

"Kase, I've loved you from the moment I met you. I can't imagine my life without you, and I know you feel the same way. Will you marry me?" He dropped to one knee and held out a small blue box.

Once again, her acting was incredible. She didn't go overboard on the surprise; that would have been a dead giveaway that she knew all along. She held back just enough emotion to make it look genuine. As she took the ring box, her expression went from shock to surprise to unbelievable joy. Her face split open in the biggest smile I'd ever seen.

"Is that a yes?"

She nodded, unable to speak. "Yes," she whispered, finally. "Yes!"

Van played the Wedding March; everyone else was crowding around the happy couple, congratulating them. I didn't think anything, for me, would top meeting Erik Estrada, but this would do it.

"I'm so happy for you," I said.

"Will you walk me down the aisle?" Kase asked.

I felt oddly touched by this request. "I'd be proud to," I said. "Nothing I'd like better."

"Ooh, let me see the ring!" Sara craned her neck to get a better look.

It was a nice ring. One of those with a big stone in the center (an emerald, her birthstone as I learned later) and two smaller diamonds, one on either side. I wanted to get Trish a ring like that for our tenth anniversary. But she spent that anniversary in the hospital. By our eleventh, she was gone.

I didn't ask how much it cost, although it couldn't have been cheap. I still wasn't sure if the Riders got paid or not. Kit said they received a small sum from the government, and free room and board. They didn't really need much right now, but once they started getting married and having kids, those expenses would go way up.

But I reminded myself that it wasn't my problem. If anyone came to me for advice, I'd be happy to share it, but otherwise, I had to trust them to take care of themselves.

"I think we'll end on a high note," Master Eubulon announced from the front of the room. "Thank you all for coming. Don't forget to take your gift bags with you as you leave. Who wants to help pass out the gift bags?"

There was no shortage of volunteers, but in the end, Kit and Adam did the honors. The gift bags were red or green, although there was no difference between the two. I know because I snuck a peek into them. They each held a small bag of Christmas cookies, a small bottle of eggnog, a gift card for some place I had never heard of before (Kit told me it was the pizza place around the corner, and the pizza was very good), and a small pin in the shape of a Christmas tree. Way down in the bottom of my bag, when I eventually got it home, I also found a Christmas cracker, but I waited to pull it until Christmas itself.

When all the guests were gone, Kit came over and said, "I'll take you home, Dad, and then I have to come back. I kind of promised I'd help clean up. But I'll be back for Christmas Eve, and Christmas Day."

"You're spending the night?"

"By the time we get this all straightened up, it'll be pretty late. I don't want to wake you up coming in. So I'll sleep over, and see you tomorrow."

"Oh . . . okay."

"Just let me know when you're ready to go."

"Give me a few more minutes."

It wasn't the first time Kit had been away from home overnight. It wasn't even the first time he'd spent more than a day in Ventara. But somehow, even though I knew it wouldn't be for long, I felt like I was losing him.

"You knew this day would come."

I turned and saw Master Eubulon standing beside me. "Yeah," I said, "I knew. Doesn't make it any easier, though."

"You've given him a strong moral compass. Now it's his time to build his own future."

"I just . . . I don't want to let him go. He's all I have left."

"Something tells me," the Advent Master said, with a twinkle in his eye, "that he'll always come back to you."

"I hope so. One thing's for sure: I couldn't imagine him in better hands."

"He's in the safest place he could possibly be."

"The protection runes around the doors."

"You noticed?"

"Do they actually work?"

He smiled. "They're an old tradition. On Karsh, the runes were always placed around the doors of a new building, to bring luck. When we built this place, I saw to it that they were included." He shrugged. "Couldn't hurt."

"Do you miss your home planet?"

"Nothing left to miss. Everything that meant anything to me is gone. All that I love . . . is here."

And suddenly I felt ashamed of myself. "I'm sorry," I said. "You've lost your whole world, and here I am complaining because my son is on the other side of the mirror for one night. What am I doing?"

"You're being a father," he said, "who's not ready to let go yet."

"I can try, though."

"You have to trust him. He knows what he's doing . . . most of the time." He added the last with a smile and a wink. "What he doesn't know, we can teach him."

"Thank you," I said. "I mean it. Thank you for taking care of him."

"Thank **you**," he said, "for showing him the way."

"I'm ready now," I said. "Kit? Let's go."


	19. The Man Behind the Bug

"You want to know about Marvin Drenk?" Chance asked Kit, while he set up the video player.

"I'm not sure. Do I?"

"We'll start with the test. This is his first major film, _Attack of the Giant Cockroach. _If you can sit through more than five minutes of this atrocity and still keep your sanity, you're ready to hear the full story."

Kit looked dubious. "If this is gonna damage my brain, forget it. I need my brain."

"You want to just skip straight to the documentary?"

"If we can do that."

"There are several, actually," Hunt pointed out. "The two main ones are _The Man, the Roach, the Vision _- which was made by one of his fanatics - and _The Bug that Wrecked Continental Pictures._ Which one do you want to start with?"

"The second one. Sounds like it would be more . . . honest."

"_Bug _it is." Chance slid it into the player.

The movie opened with a close-up shot of a poster depicting a horrifying creature demolishing city towers.

"That's not even a cockroach," Kit pointed out. "That's a beetle."

"Maybe they couldn't get the roach to attack the Lego city," said Chance.

"_It began with an insect," _the voice-over droned.

"Hey, is that John Forsythe?" Kit asked.

"I think so."

"_In 1977, the year that _Star Wars_ changed the face of science fiction as we know it, a young filmmaker named Marvin Drenk had an idea. He wanted to film an _homage_ to the giant-creature movies of the '50's. That film eventually became _Attack of the Giant Cockroach_."_

"Because all the good creatures were taken," Chance quipped. "Roaches aren't scary, they're just disgusting."

"Shut up, I'm watching this," said Kit.

"Oh, sorry."

"_Drenk was known at the time for his series of innovative commercials for Chow Chow dog food, featuring a dancing poodle. His only long-form project to date was a student film entitled _The Girl and the Butterfly_, which featured his roommate's niece romping in a field with a monarch butterfly."_

They showed a clip from the film. A little girl in a bright green dress was chasing a butterfly through the flowers.

"Seems harmless enough," Kit observed. "How do you go from butterflies to giant roaches?"

"_In the spring of 1976,"_ the narrator continued, _"Drenk allegedly received a copy of a script for a movie called Big Bug. The author of this script, Janice Wainwright, later sued Drenk for one million dollars for unauthorized use of her material. The suit was eventually dropped for lack of evidence."_

The scene changed to a woman, sitting at a typewriter, clacking on the keys while her voice could be heard in the background.

"_I wrote_ Big Bug _as a joke, because a friend dared me to write it. I never seriously intended to sell it, but someone in Drenk's_ _office knew my agent, and I sent it in, and never heard another thing about it._

"_The next thing I knew, _Attack of the Giant Cockroach _came out in theaters, and there was my story, up on the screen, and not a single dime did I get. And no one in Drenk's office would take my calls. So I got a lawyer._

"_Two years and $200,000 later, a judge said that there wasn't enough evidence to prove that the script was the one I wrote, and he threw the case out of court. And that was the end of that."_

"Given how bad the movies are," Chance said, "I wouldn't fight so hard for any part of it."

"Maybe she thought she could make a better movie," Kit suggested.

"Blind, deaf monkeys could make a better movie," said Hunt. "Even on no budget."

The scene changed to a generic shot of a movie studio. _"The production of the film was not without incident. Three extras were killed in a freak accident when a special effect misfired. The set was shut down for several days, but the investigation turned up no evidence of foul play, so shooting resumed shortly afterward. Then there came the distastrous day that the film's leading lady had a near-fatal overdose. It was officially ruled an accident, but as some believe, it may not have been."_

The scene changed again to a young woman sitting on the edge of her bed, pill bottle in hand. DRAMATIZATION was at the bottom of the screen.

"_Miss Cameron refused to speak to us on camera, so we turned to her 1979 autobiography, _Girl Among the Ruins, _for details of that fateful day."_

"What they're not telling you," Chance said, "is that she made another attempt in 1982, and she's been in a coma ever since. So she couldn't have talked to them even if she wanted to."

"That's terrible," said Kit.

"_Marvin Drenk is the worst human being on the face of the planet. When he wasn't barking orders at me, he was putting his hands all over me. And I mean all over me. The man has no sense of decency whatsoever, and if I hadn't needed this part so badly, I would have walked on the first day._

"_Maybe I should have done that anyway. I would have saved myself a lot of grief later on."_

"Such a tragedy," Chance said. "She had so much talent."

"_Drenk treated that insect better than he treated his human actors. Nothing mattered but the roach. I just . . . I just couldn't take any more."_

"_On the morning of October sixteenth," _the narrator said, _"Delia Cameron failed to show up on the set. An assistant found her in her trailer, unconscious. She was taken to the hospital, where she was determined to have overdosed on prescription sleep aids. The overdose was ruled accidental, but considering Miss Cameron's state of mind at the time, questions remained."_

"I'll bet," said a voice from the doorway. "Drenk drove everyone he worked with to either suicide or insanity. He assaulted a stunt man for something he said about Drenk's hair . . . or was it his weight? Anyway, there was a big legal mess, and then Drenk went to South America for a while . . ."

"South America?" Kit asked. Then he saw who it was. "Adam? What are you doing here?"

"I'm trying to set up a practice schedule. I figure if I'm gonna be a backup I should at least keep up my skills . . . if that's okay."

"Okay? Adam . . . this is your home. You're family. You don't need an invitation to drop by."

"I sort of lost my key card."

Chance snorted, but at a look from Kit, he fell silent.

"Yeah, I . . . lose things a lot," Adam went on. "I just don't know where I put it."

"We'll have a new one made. C'mon, sit down."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. You want a drink?" There was a little fridge in the corner for drinks and snacks.

"Thanks."

"Anyone else want one?"

"What have we got?" Chance asked.

Kit took a look. There was a six-pack of something called Cranberry Kiwi Punch, and that was it. "Is this Cranberry Kiwi stuff any good?"

"Yeah, it's kinda . . . different. I'll have one."

"Hunt?"

"Oh, no, thanks, I'm fine."

Kit broke off three cans and brought them over. He was about to pop the top on his own can when he noticed a big wad of gum stuck to the top. "Oh, gross!"

"What?" asked Adam.

"Somebody stuck their gum right on the top of the can."

"So get another one," said Chance.

"Who does that? Who leaves their used gum on the top of a soda can? That's just-"

"Oh, **that's **where I left my gum!"

They all turned to the doorway.

Chance rolled his eyes. "I should have known it would be you."

"Nice to see you, too," said Trent. "I'll take that one and get you a fresh one."

"Thanks," Kit said. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Round Two of the Great Software Update." He scraped the gum off the can and popped the top. "Today we're testing the Net connection to make sure that everything works. I should get back to the lab. What are you watching?"

"It's a documentary about the worst director in the world."

"Yeah? Sounds interesting." He sat on one of the less-comfortable chairs. "What's happened so far?"

"Well," said Chance, "he ripped off a screenwriter and drove a leading lady to suicide. But the best part's coming up."

"Two words," said Hunt. "Eddie Bricker."

"Who?"

"Just watch. You'll see very soon."

Sure enough, the next thing the group saw was a guy in a T-shirt with a familiar logo and faded jeans, looking at a picture of Marvin Drenk with disgust.

"_Eddie Bricker was Marvin Drenk's chief stunt coordinator on the first two films. He first came to work on the original Roach when the director saw his student film about the coffee shop near his old apartment. He took Bricker under his wing and showed him all about the ups and downs of the film industry . . ."_

"So when do we get to the fun part?" asked Kase.

Kit looked over at her. "When did you get here?"

She shrugged. "Just now."

"Want a drink?" Chance got up to get it for her. "All we've got's that cranberry stuff; that okay?"

"Oh, don't strain yourself. I'll go get something from the vending machine. Don't bother to pause, I'll be right back."

She left the room, and they turned their attention to the program, which was now getting into the story of exactly what prompted Eddie Bricker to quit the set of the third Cockroach film before Drenk could fire him.

"_Things were going so badly that Drenk nearly committed suicide over his repeated failures. Eddie Bricker tried to steer Drenk in the right direction as far as his career went, but Drenk refused to listen to him - or anyone else, for that matter."_

"No surprise there," said Chance.

"Wait for the part about the hand pushing the cockroach on camera," said Hunt.

"Hand?" Kit asked.

"Even the stunt roach didn't want to be in the movie. That roach was smarter than half the people on the set!"

"Oh, the hand," said Kase, coming back with a drink and an armful of snacks, which she passed out.

"_Drenk had trouble getting the live roach to perform. So he forced his assistant to give the roach a little nudge onto the mark. Bricker thought it was a bad idea, and tried to talk Drenk into cutting the scene, but Drenk refused to listen."_

The scene changed to a black and white still shot of a live roach and what was unmistakably a hand.

"_He actually left the scene in the movie," _said a voice. The scene changed to a shot of a man in blue overalls. The caption underneath read _Eddie Bricker - former stuntman on _Cockroach_ 1 and 2._

"_Refused to cut it during editing. When the film finally premiered, everyone laughed at him. He said it was another cockroach riding on the first one's back, but come on! It was clearly a hand. It even had bright red fingernails! Only a blind man or an idiot could possibly mistake that for another cockroach! So Drenk came off looking like an idiot, and he almost didn't get the second film made. And when that one came out, he already had the reputation of being a total nutcase, so not many people went to see it. Unless they liked watching a train wreck in slow motion. Only in this case, it was a career wreck."_

"Only reason I ever watched his movies," Adam said.

"_Bricker finally left the production of the third film after Drenk insisted on him carrying out a difficult stunt for the end of the movie. Bricker tried to explain to him that it wouldn't work, but Drenk refused to listen."_

Back to Bricker, over a still shot of Drenk and Bricker on the set.

"_I could see it wouldn't be any good. I tried to tell him, but you try talking to Mr. I'm The World's Best Director and keeping your sanity. Can't be done. He started screaming at me, and right then and there I decided that no paycheck was worth this aggravation, so I walked. I think he was still screaming as I walked away._

"_I heard that the next day, three people quit when he started the same business with them. The next day, a lot of them stayed home rather than have to face him. He ended up finishing the whole movie by himself, and can you believe he actually said he liked it better that way?_

"_He became a one-man show, until his money ran out. The studios wouldn't give him any more, and nobody else would take his calls, not even his mother, so he was forced to get a bank loan. When that ran out, and the miserable film that was _Christmas Cockroach _made him less than nothing, he had to look outside the U. S. for investors. He did okay for a while, but then . . ."_

"Cue the international protests," said Hunt.

"_Drenk went first to Canada, and then to Great Britain, looking for foreign investors for his film series. Wherever he went, he was met with cries of 'Ban the Bug!' and 'Down with the Roach!'"_

"All this over a movie?" Trent asked.

"You haven't **seen** the movie," said Chance. "It makes _Plan 9 From Outer Space _look like _Citizen Kane._"

"If he did it as a parody, it might have had a better chance," said Adam. "But he was so darn **serious **about the whole thing. He acted like he was making a priceless work of art instead of just a dumb monster movie, and everyone was laughing at him, not with him. I'd almost feel sorry for him, if he wasn't such a jerk."

"I know how you feel, man," Kit said. "It's like he's just obnoxious enough to not be totally pathetic."

"_In Germany, Drenk's very presence caused massive riots. He was banned from Russia before he even set foot within its borders. And in Japan there were massive protests from relatives of people who'd been traumatized by the Cockroach movies. In the Middle East, he nearly wound up in prison because of an incident involving an oxcart, a traffic light, and two women in a rental car. With the possible exception of Osama Bin Laden, Marvin Drenk may be the world's most hated man."_

There was a shot of protestors with signs that read _Bajo con la Cucaracha! _And others expressing the same sentiment in French, Portuguese, Russian, and even Chinese.

"What are you watching?"

Kit looked over his shoulder and saw that Len had just come into the room. "It's a documentary about the worst filmmaker in the world."

"Not this again. Guys . . . don't waste your time with this. It's not even funny, it's just sad."

"I beg to differ," said Chance. "The guy's so dumb he doesn't even know what a jerk he is! That's hilarious."

"Uh huh." Len's eyes narrowed as he scanned the room, and then stopped on one particular person. "Adam? I didn't know you were here."

"I just came by to take care of a few things."

"Well, it's good to have you back. Now step away from the screen before your brain rots."

Adam looked a little worried, until Len reached forward and ruffled his hair gently. "It's okay. I'm just kidding."

"It's almost over, anyway, I think," said Hunt.

And indeed, the narration seemed to be winding down. _"Today, Marvin Drenk is officially in hiding, but for how long? Since the release of _Christmas Cockroach _in 1998, he has not produced anything more than controversy, but only time will tell if the man who brought giant insect movies to a new low is truly finished with filmmaking, or if there are new Cockroach movies on the horizon, yet to be made."_

"Dear God, let's hope not," said Kase.

There was a final comment from Eddie Bricker. _"Personally, I hope the son of a (bleep) is gone for good. He's the worst thing to ever happen to movies in America. I don't care how broke you are, do not work for this man. It's just not worth it."_

Then the closing credits rolled.

Before they had even reached the top of the screen, Len grabbed the remote and shut it off. "And that's the end of that. Now let's watch something worthwhile."

"Not so fast," said Kit. "After all that, I think I want to see the movie now."

"Yeah, I have to see this thing, too," Trent said.

Len shook his head. "Guys, it's really not worth it . . ."

"Oh, hush," Kase said, pulling him down beside her. "Here, have some popcorn."

In the end, it turned out, the movie wasn't as bad as advertised.

It was worse.


	20. Valentine Surprises

**Valentine Surprises**

"You'll love this place," Price said as they pulled up to the curb. "It's supposed to be the best in town. That's why I had so much trouble getting a reservation."

"It sure looks fancy," said Maya. A valet came and opened her door for her, and then took the keys from Price.

"Be careful with it, it's a rental."

The valet nodded and slipped behind the wheel.

As he drove off, Maya looked up at the gold and white awning over the entrance. "Cantata's, huh? Nice. What's the menu like?"

"I don't know. I took a peek at it online, and what I saw seemed like pretty standard stuff. It was in English, by the way. I hate it when they insist on writing the menu in French. It's like they do it on purpose to humiliate you."

"Yeah, a little too hoity-toity for my taste." She took his arm, and they went inside.

"We have a reservation for six-thirty," Price told the person behind the little desk. "In the name of Martin?"

"Martin . . . Martin . . . oh, yes, here you are. Your table will be ready in a moment, sir -" Then he looked up and saw who it was. "You're one of the -"

"Yes. Yes, I am. But tonight," he said, slipping something into the man's palm, "I'm not. We just want to be treated like everyone else."

"Of course. Right this way, please."

Maya gave Price an odd look. "Did you just give the guy money to **not **give us special treatment?"

"I just want to be with you. Not a hundred other people seeking autographs. Besides, we'll probably get free desserts or something anyway."

"Mmm, free dessert sounds nice."

"Here you are, sir and madam," said the maitre d'. "Your host will be with you in just a moment. If you'd perhaps like a drink from the bar?"

"Just a glass of water," Price said.

"I'll have a Diet Coke," said Maya. "Um, do you have Diet Coke?"

"We do. I'll see that your drinks are brought to you right away."

Maya took the time, after he left, to look around. The place was very well-furnished, with lots of tapestries and a few hanging plants. Even the floor in their section was carpeted. This sure wasn't Diorio's, where they often went for pizza. Definitely a more posh atmosphere here.

"Good evening," said a young man coming up to their table. "My name is John, and I'll be your host this evening. What can I get you to start?"

"We ordered drinks," Maya said.

"Yes, your drinks are on their way from the bar. In the meantime, would you like to see a list of our appetizers?"

"I think we'll just skip to the main course," said Price.

"Of course, sir. Would you like to hear our specials this evening?"

"Sure."

With that, the waiter - sorry, "host" - began rattling off a list of long and complicated dishes with at least three ingredients each. Maya couldn't keep up with him, even though everything was in English.

"You know what?" she said. "I think we need a few more minutes."

"That's fine. Ah, here are your drinks."

A "hostess" set their drinks in front of them and then left. The host said, "Take your time. I'll be back in a few minutes. Let me know if you need anything."

"Thank you so much," Price said.

When he was gone, Maya said, "I just want something simple. Something without all kinds of sauces dumped over it. What have they got for fish?"

"Let me see." Price started to pick up his menu, when something on the other side of the room caught his attention. "I don't believe it."

"What?" Maya tried to turn around to see what it was.

"It's Adam and Sara. Wonder what they're doing here?"

"Probably the same thing we are."

"Oh, right."

"Want to go say hi?"

"I suppose we probably should."

So they got up and, bringing their drinks with them, walked over to the table where Adam and Sara were seated, sipping their own drinks and talking about their day.

"Hi, guys," Price said.

Sara looked up. "Oh, my God, hi! What are you guys doing here?"

"Well, you know, it's Valentine's Day . . ."

"Have you been here long?" Adam asked.

"Maybe about ten minutes?"

"Sit down, join us. Excuse me!" He waved to one of the hosts. "Is it okay if they move to our table?"

"Oh, sure. Let me just inform your server. Who's in your section?"

"John." Price handed over a folded bill. "Give this to him."

"I will. Have you ordered yet?"

"Not yet. I think we'll be ready soon."

"Very good. My name is Rick, by the way."

"Thanks, Rick."

"That was a twenty-dollar bill!" Maya whispered, as Rick walked away. "You keep giving your money away, you're gonna be in trouble when it comes time to pay the check!"

"I just felt bad for the guy losing out on our tip. Hopefully this will make up for it."

"I'll say! How much were you planning on ordering?"

"Anything you want. Put your wallet away, this is my treat. Trust me, I'm good for it."

"You sure?"

"I don't have a lot of stuff to spend my money on. Tonight, let me spend it on you."

So she sat and listened to the conversation, as Price and Adam reminisced about their school days.

"And the ski trip?"

"Oh, God, the ski trip!" Adam winced with the memories. "Everything that could have gone wrong, did. When the bus broke down, we should have taken it as a sign and gone home. But we wanted to ski!"

"I think the final tally was . . . three broken legs, two lost ski poles, an accidental swim in the indoor fountain, one all-day search for someone lost in the woods -"

"That was me," Adam said shamefully. "I thought I was still on the trail, but I wasn't."

"And wasn't someone chased by a bear?"

"No, that was the camp-out the next summer. That bear kept coming back and eating all our food, and finally Len tried to chase it away. The bear had other ideas. Chased him right up a tree and kept him there for three hours until someone could go get the park service attendant. We teased him about it all the way home."

"Sounds like quite the interesting trip," Sara said.

"It was," said Adam. "That's why we never went again."

"Are you ready to order now?" Their host had returned.

The food was wonderful. Maya had a kind of fish in white sauce, served with carrot strips and rice. Sara had some kind of chicken, and the guys both had beef. By the time they were done, she wasn't sure she'd have room for dessert, but who could resist chocolate raspberry surprise cake?

"I have something for you," Sara said. She reached under the table and came up with a little pink gift bag. "Happy Valentine's Day!"

"Ooh, what's this?" Adam peeled back the layers of pink tissue wrap. "It's a bear! It's a bear in a little karate outfit!"

"Isn't it cute? I just loved it!"

"Thank you. It's great. I have something for you, too." From his coat pocket, he pulled out a small white box. "I've wanted to give this to you from the moment I met you. And now, I think, the time is finally right."

"What is it?" She opened the box. "Oh, my God!"

It was a diamond ring.

"Will you marry me?"

Suddenly, Sara burst into tears.

"What? What's wrong?"

"I . . ." she blubbered. "I got you a bear! You gave me a diamond, and I gave you a silly little bear . . ."

"It's a nice bear! I like the bear. Muff-Muff needed a sparring partner." He put his arm around her, holding her close. "So is that a yes?"

Still crying, she nodded.

"Wow," said Price. "Congratulations, you two! I hope we at least get an invitation."

"Are you kidding? You can be in the wedding party. I couldn't do it without you there."

"Let me see it," Maya said to Sara.

She held up the box and wiped her eyes. "It's beautiful."

"Let's see it on."

"Okay." She started to slip it on, but Adam put his hand over hers.

"Allow me."

It was a perfect fit. Though the light in their section was low, it sparkled just the same.

"Do you like it?" Adam asked Sara.

"I love it."

"You don't think it's too small? Can you see it okay? Can you guys see it?"

"It's perfect," said Price.

"Aren't you, um, gonna do your presents now?"

Maya and Price looked at each other. "We're . . . doing that when we get home," Price said.

"Yeah," said Maya. "Didn't think to bring it."

"Oh, I get it," said Adam. "Kind of a hard act to follow. That's okay. Could we have the check, please?"

Certainly," said Rick, who had appeared out of nowhere. "Would you like separate checks, or should I put them on one?"

"One is fine," said Price, discreetly slipping Rick his credit card.

* * *

A short time later, they were saying goodbye out front as they waited for their respective cars to pull up to the curb.

"Don't tell anyone just yet," said Adam. "I want to make the announcement myself, at the next big event. Whenever that is."

"I've heard something about a St. Patrick's Day party," said Price. "I'll call you and let you know."

Sara gave Maya a big hug. "I can't wait to have you as a bridesmaid! I don't have any sisters or female cousins or anything, and my best friend moved away last year. I have a few girls at work I say hello to, but I don't really know them that well. You don't mind, do you?"

"Mind?" Maya looked at her. "I'm honored! I'll call you sometime, and we'll go looking at dresses."

Minutes later, Price and Maya's car pulled up. They got in, waving a final goodbye, and drove home.

"So where's my present hiding?" she teased him, as they rode up in the elevator.

"I'll show you. I hope you like it."

They got off at the dormitory level and proceeded down the hall to one of the guest rooms. Only it wasn't a guest room any longer. There was her name, stenciled in pink, on the door.

She looked at it, then at him, and he nodded. "It's yours, now. Are you ready to see the inside?"

"I'm ready."

"Okay."

The door slid back, and she beheld a dream, in pink.

It was exactly the bedroom she had always wanted. Everything was done in different shades of pink, but somehow, it didn't look like Barbie's Dream House. There were cutouts of various anime characters on the walls, and the ceiling, painted pale pink, sparkled with crystal stars.

"It's beautiful," she said.

"You don't think it's too Hello Kitty?"

"No, I love it! You did this?"

"I had a couple of the guys helping me."

At the end of the bed was a small square box. Bigger than ring-sized, but smaller than Christmas box-sized. She picked it up and shook it.

"What's this?"

"Open it and see."

She folded back the paper delicately and lifted the lid of the box. Inside was something red and filmy. She lifted it out. "You bought me lingerie?"

"Would you model it for me?" he said, with a grin.

"Let me give you yours first."

"The look on your face when you saw all this is all the present I need."

"Oh, come on, you'll like this." She took the small package out of her purse and handed it to him.

He wasn't as careful with the paper as she had been. Pieces of it fell to the floor, but she'd get those later. Under the paper was a small rectangular box, big enough for a lighter or a dog tag. He opened it.

"It's . . . a flash drive?"

"Turn it over."

He did so. On the reverse side were etched his name and Rider symbol, in his signature color. "Where did you get this?"

"I sent away for it."

"It's great. I love it." He gave her a big hug and a kiss that she wished could last forever. "You know, I never used to like Valentine's Day."

"Aw. Were you one of those kids who never got any valentines?"

"Yeah. I never thought I'd find anyone . . . and then I met you. And I've never been happier."

"Me, too." She picked up her box and started across the room.

"Where are you going?"

She looked over her shoulder at him and winked. "To try on your present."

The look on his face said everything. This was going to be a Valentine's Day that neither of them would ever forget.


	21. Post Potter Depression

_(Author's Note: the title is from a song by Lauren Fairweather; you can find it on YouTube. It's short but sweet. Enjoy!)_

Kit was about to get undressed for bed when he heard a bang coming from the room next door. He yanked his T-shirt back down and went to find out what had happened.

The room next to his was Quinn's. He wondered what could have happened. It sounded like something had fallen. He tapped on the door. "You okay in there?"

"Yeah. Come on in."

He entered the code and the door slid open. Quinn was sitting on the bed, and he looked okay. He was already in his pajamas.

"I heard this bang. What happened? Did something fall?"

"No, I . . ." The other boy pointed across the room. "I kind of . . . threw it."

Kit went over and picked up the fallen object. It was Quinn's copy of the last Harry Potter book. "You finally finished this, huh?"

"Yeah, and I wish I hadn't. Have you read it?"

"Yeah."

"What did you think of that epilogue?"

"I don't know. It's an ending."

"She skipped over all the stuff I really wanted to know! All about the . . . the rebuilding. How did people learn to trust each other again? What did the Muggles think had happened? What happened to all the Death Eaters? But no, we have to have a happy ending. And now there won't be any more."

"There might be."

"No, she said she's not doing any more books about Harry. Period. Finito. The end." He slumped back on the bed. "What do I do now?"

Kit shrugged. "There's always the fanfiction."

Quinn's eyes went wide with terror. "Oh, no! I've seen the fanfiction. No, thanks."

"What's wrong with it?"

"Trust me, you don't want to know."

"Okay." Kit knew when to back off.

"I just don't know what I'm going to do with myself now. I don't have that . . . that sense of satisfaction that I get when I usually finish a book. It's just, like, that's it? Now what?"

"You could start a new series. We'll go to the bookstore tomorrow. I've got a free day; do you?"

"I'm off in the morning."

"There you go. We'll go right when they open, and we'll have the place all to ourselves. How does that sound?"

"Okay, I guess . . ." Quinn didn't look very happy about it.

"There's always Maya's book. I know you haven't read that."

"No, because I know what happens." There was just the hint of a smile on his face, and Kit found it encouraging.

"Okay, then. The bookstore it is. Do they open at nine or ten?"

"Ten, I think."

"We'll leave here at quarter of. I hope they have good parking."

* * *

The new independent bookstore was next to Diorio's. It was a bit on the small side, but hopefully it would do.

A young woman in a flowered dress was shelving books when she looked up and saw them. "Welcome to Book Shelves," she said brightly. "What can I help you find today?"

Quinn just stared at her, as if he didn't know what to say. People who didn't know him well sometimes thought he wasn't that bright, but he was just shy.

"My friend here," Kit began, "just finished the last Harry Potter book, and- "

"Ah," she said, with a twinkle in her eye. "Post Potter Depression."

"Huh?"Quinn stared at her blankly.

"Come with me."

She led them around the corner to a display of books, mostly Young Adult fantasy, with a sign above them: GOT POST POTTER DEPRESSION? WE CAN HELP!

"This happened a lot over the summer and the fall," she explained. "People finished the book, they didn't know what to do next. There's some adult fantasy in here, too. The Discworld books are amazing."

Quinn's attention was drawn to a book in the second row, right-hand side. "What's this about?"

"_The Lightning Thief_? Oh, that's really cool. It's sort of a modern retelling of some of the old Greek myths -"

"I like myths." He read the jacket copy, nodding in approval. "I think I'll take this one."

"Good choice. That's actually the start of a series as well. When you're done with that, you can come back and I'll give you the next one. I can hold it for you."

"That would be great."

"What name should I put it under?"

"My name is . . ." He trailed off, blinking, as if his mind had gone completely blank. He turned to Kit. "What's my name?"

"Quinn."

"Oh, yeah."

"That's an unusual name," the girl said.

"Yeah, I know, it doesn't go, right? My grandmother on my mother's side was Irish. Quinn was her maiden name, so I was sort of named after her."

"I understand that. It's the same in my family. That's how I ended up with a name like Colleen Gutierrez."

"I don't think that's so bad."

"Let me ring that up for you." Colleen walked them over to the register, where she processed the transaction fairly quickly. She handed him the receipt, circling the store phone number. "If you have any questions, give me a call."

"I can come back tomorrow," Quinn said.

"I won't be here tomorrow. I'll be at the Café Florence. That's where I get most of my writing done."

"You write, too? What kind of stuff? If you don't mind my asking."

"Oh, I don't mind. Mostly fantasy, sci-fi, far out kind of stuff."

"I love far out stuff! I'd love to read some of it, if that's okay."

"I don't know . . ."

"Please? I promise I won't tear it to shreds."

"Well . . . okay. I'll be at the Café between ten and one, if you want to stop by for a coffee or something. They have really good pastries."

"Um, I'll be, um, waiting outside, when you're ready," Kit said. He could tell when he wasn't needed. He'd done his job, now he needed to get out of the way. He slipped away to wait out by the bikes.

It was several minutes before Quinn rejoined him. And he'd forgotten his book.


	22. Attribute

"I just don't get it."

Len looks at me. "What, Kit? What don't you get?"

"This attribute thing. How am I supposed to find out the thing that defines me most if I can't ask anyone about it?"

"You can't learn it from other people. You have to discover it for yourself."

"Oh, very Zen. Yeah, so how? I've been here for eight months, and I'll admit, I've learned a lot, but . . . I don't think I'm any closer to finding it than I was when I started."

"Well, you're trying too hard. Don't try to force it; let it come to you naturally. You'll figure it out in time."

"So how long did you take to find yours?"

"About two or three years. It varies from person to person. Some figure it out right away; others take a long time to pin it down. I've been keeping track of all the Riders' attributes, and I've found that no two are the same. I do have some theories about what yours could be."

"Okay, let's hear 'em."

"I'm not telling you."

He's got to be kidding. "Not even a hint?"

"That's not how it's supposed to work. Think about what makes you special, what makes you unique. It's there; you just have to find it."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"Look within."

Yeah, that's helpful. "Thanks a lot."

"Hey, it's no good if someone hands you the answer. You have to do the work."

"I've **been** doing the work! It's not helping!"

He sighs. "Sometimes, it helps to see ourselves as others see us."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"What do you think it means?"

"Can't you just give me a straight answer? What's with all the mystery?"

Len sighs. "It's no mystery, Kit. It's something you know already. You just don't know you know it."

I feel like banging my head against the nearest wall. He's being no help at all. I expect this kind of thing from Master Eubulon, but Len's always been straight with me. What's going on?

Maybe some of the other guys will have a clue about all this.

* * *

"My attribute?" Chance says. We're sitting in the Common Room, me in the chair and him sprawling across the couch the way he does. "Why do you want to know that?"

"I thought maybe, if I knew some of the others, it would help me find mine."

He rolls over and rests his chin on the arm of the couch so he's looking directly at me. "Kit, don't worry about that. You've been here less than a year. It took me three years to find mine."

"Really?"

He nods sadly. "It was a long time before I could see anything positive in myself. At least you don't have that problem."

What problem? I know, from things I've picked up from other people, that something bad happened to Chance before he came here. But no one's ever said what it was. Maybe they don't even know.

"So what is your attribute?"

The sad expression turns into a huge grin. "You can't tell? I thought it would be obvious."

"Is it being a total pain in the butt?"

He picks up one of the throw pillows and bats me with it a few times. I duck out of the way, but he's a good shot. He gets in a few more good thumps before someone comes along and yanks the pillow out of his hands.

"No fighting on the furniture," Nolan says. "Or **with** the furniture."

"We were just fooling around." Chance shifts around until he's sitting upright. "No harm done."

"What's this all about, anyway?"

Maybe he can help me. "I'm trying to find my attribute," I tell him. "Len says he knows what it is, but he won't tell me."

"Well, Len's pretty wise. If he doesn't want to tell you, there must be a reason."

"Yeah, but he didn't have to be mean about it."

"Mean?"

"He was all 'I can't tell you, I can't tell you.' Why would he tease me like that?"

"I don't know. I can speak to him about it, if you want."

"No, no, that's okay. It's not a big deal. It just kinda bugs me."

"Well, I'm sure he wasn't being mean. He must have had a reason for that."

"He said I have to find it for myself. How? How am I supposed to find something when I don't even know what I'm looking for?"

"But you do know," Nolan says. "You just don't know that you know."

"Oh, not you, too! I know you think you're being all mystical and wise and stuff, but it's frustrating when everyone else knows something about me that I don't, and they won't tell me!"

"Kit," he says, "it took me a while to find mine, but when I did, it was so obvious that I felt foolish for not recognizing it before. Don't overlook the obvious. Sometimes you can miss what's right under your nose, so to speak."

"Yeah, I guess so. Thanks, man."

Something I know, but don't know that I know? Sounds like a riddle. I've never been any good at riddles. I know I'll never get a straight answer by asking anyone, so I head to one of the small meditation rooms to think about it.

At this time of day, none of them are taken, so I have my choice. I go into the second one and lock the door. The meditation rooms are about the size of a closet, but completely empty. There's a mat on the floor, but that's it. The idea is that if there aren't any distractions, the mind will clear, and the soul will open up. Or something. I'm not too good at it, but I do my best.

I sit cross-legged on the floor, close my eyes, and take a deep breath. Clear the mind, empty out the thoughts. Open up to the universe. Deep breath in, deep breath out. In, out -

Someone rattles the doorknob. Great. "I'm in here!"

"Do you see my touch stone anywhere in there? I can't remember where I left it."

That can only be one person. "No, Ian, I haven't seen -" And then I spot something small and gray in the corner. "Wait a minute. Is it flat, and polished," I feel something on the bottom and flip it over, "with your symbol carved on the back?"

"Yeah, that's it. Thanks. I couldn't remember if I was in Three or Four."

I open the door and hand it over. "This is Two."

"It is? Oh, they all look alike. Thanks, man!"

"Wait! Can I ask you something?"

"What did I do now?"

"No, it's not like that. How long did it take you to find your attribute?"

"My what?"

"You know, the thing that makes you unique."

"I don't understand the question. I've always been unique. I mean, there's only one of me."

"But everyone has their own kind of uniqueness. Len said no two have the same attribute. I'm still trying to find mine."

"Oh, that's easy! It's -" He stops in mid-sentence. "Oh, wait, I'm not supposed to tell you."

"Yeah, I know, I have to find out for myself. Can't you just give me a hint?"

"I . . . gotta go. Sorry."

Okay, so I'm back where I started. Time to be one with the universe. I lock the door again, wishing we had a "Do Not Disturb" sign I could put on the door. Sit back down, close my eyes, deep breaths. Empty the mind, clear the thoughts, open up . . .

The next thing I know, someone's knocking on the door. "Kit? Are you in there?" It's Kase.

"Yeah, what?"

"It's almost time for dinner. You've been in there for hours. Did you fall asleep?"

I'm almost ashamed to admit it. "Yeah, I guess I did." I open the door and look into her face. She's smiling.

"It happens sometimes. Don't worry about it. Did you dream?"

"I don't think so."

"Too bad. Dreams during meditation can be enlightening. You'll find it."

"That's what everyone keeps saying, but I don't know how! I just don't!"

"Okay, don't stress about it! Sweetie, it'll come to you."

I'm not so sure about that, but she looks at me like I'm the greatest thing in the world. I think back to right after she first arrived, when we weren't getting along, and I'm amazed at how far we've come. She's like my big sister, who takes care of me.

Everyone's already in the dining hall when we get there. It's not usually this crowded. People tend to wander in and out, depending on the time of day. The only time we all eat together is on special occasions. Is it someone's birthday, and nobody told me?

Figures the place would be full the one time I was counting on some alone time, and by that I mean **conscious **alone time.

"What's going on?" I ask Kase.

"I talked to the guys, and . . . they agreed to help you with the attribute quest."

"That's great! Thanks a lot!"

"Just remember, 'help' does not mean 'give it to you.' You have to do that part on your own."

"I will."

I go and get myself some food, and by the time I bring it over to the nearest table, Len's joined us. "Sorry about being mean," he says. "I couldn't just give you the answer. It wouldn't be fair."

"You didn't have to tease me with it, though."

"Okay, that was a little mean. Sorry."

"It's okay, man."

Then the floor show begins. The first one to stand up and tell his story is Price.

"How I found my attribute. I came to Training School when I was eleven years old, and I really didn't know what it was all about. There weren't a lot of people here yet, and the ones that were, didn't stick around. Mostly it was just Len and me, fooling around.

"One day we decided to reprogram the training simulator, to make it more exciting. I wanted to see if I could put dinosaurs into the program. It actually worked. So I added more stuff. One thing led to another . . . and you all know how it turned out. We completely crashed the program, and it had to be rebuilt from scratch. Yeah, we got in major trouble for it, but it was fun while it lasted!"

Everyone laughs, even though they've heard this story before. I can't picture Len breaking the rules, even at . . . how old was he then? Twelve? Thirteen? And where was Kase while this was going on? Did she warn them not to do it, the Hermione to their Harry and Ron? Or did she just not know about it?

Anyway, he continues: "My attribute is my creativity. These days I channel it into positive things like my art, instead of throwing random dinosaurs into computer programs. Not that some of them couldn't be improved by adding dinosaurs." Everyone laughs and applauds him.

He sits back down, and the next person gets up to speak. To my surprise, it's Van.

"Don't make the mistake of confusing the attribute with your talent," he says, "like I did. Talent is a good thing, but talent is about what you can **do**. The attribute is about what you **are**. It took me a while to learn that, and to find out what my attribute was. I thought it was related to my ability to play the piano, and it turned out, it was. It takes a great deal of discipline and self-control to sit down and practice for hours at a time. I was able to transfer that self-discipline into my practices. Once I saw how the skills I'd learned from my piano practice could help me in other areas, I knew I had found what I was looking for."

He sits down. I wonder if all of them are going to speak. That could take a while. I hope they get to the point soon. There is a point, right?

The next person to share his story is Nolan.

"I came late to the party," he says. "My family moved so much when I was growing up that the people from the training school couldn't find me till I started Basic Training. I didn't start in childhood like most of the others. I thought my age would be a problem. It turned out to be the biggest asset in my arsenal."

"Really?" I can't help blurting out.

"Yeah. I found that it's not so much the destination that matters, but also the journey, and the people you share it with. I grew up not having many friends, but when I came here, I became part of a family. I'm proud of all my brothers and sisters whom I helped along the way. My attribute is . . . well, there's really not a word for it. Helping to bring out the best in other people, I guess comes close. I'm just glad that where I ended up is where I needed to be."

He sits down. I'm waiting to see who will be the next one to tell their story. I'm surprised when Len stands up. What words of wisdom does Mr. "I Can't Tell You" have to share with us?

"I've been here the longest, and everyone thinks I'm so wise and know everything, but it took me two years to figure out something I knew all along. It was practically the first thing Master Eubulon said to me when we met: he said I had extraordinary empathy.

"People who don't know me that well sometimes think I'm cold and unfriendly when they first meet me. I think Kit thought that in the beginning. No, come on, admit it. You did."

"Well . . . things were kind of weird, that first day. But yeah, you didn't exactly make a good first impression." I have to smile, thinking of Len acting so tough that day. How far we've come.

"There were reasons for that, of course. But once we got to know each other, things were different, weren't they?"

"I think it was after you vented another Rider for the first time that I saw your real face. I could tell it really bothered you."

"Yeah. Fighting monsters is one thing - they're just creations, made to be disposable. But having to do that to human beings - that just about killed me, and Xaviax knew it. He used my own greatest weapon against me. Just like he did to you."

I blink. "What?"

"He took the love you had for your father and he used it like a tool to try and maneuver you to his side."

"Didn't work, did it?"

"No, it didn't. You were stronger than he thought you were. Because of your attribute."

"Which you're still not gonna tell me, are you?"

"You're smart," he says. "You can figure it out for yourself."

I'm about to make another smart remark when I realize that he's right. I can figure it out for myself. And I will, eventually. It might take three years, or three months, but I'll get it.

"Thanks, everybody," I say, looking around the room. "You've been a lot of help to me. I know I'll find it now."


	23. Father Figure pt 1

"Thanks for letting me crash," Chance said. He reached for another Kleenex, but the box was empty.

"No problem," Kit said. He popped open a fresh box and brought it over. "I just don't get why you won't stay in the base. I've seen that infirmary; it's really nice."

"Yeah, but there's no privacy in that place. Everybody's always in everyone else's business."

"Really? Cause that's what I like about it. I've never been part of a real family before. It was always just me and my dad."

"Your dad's cool," Chance said, a touch of sadness in his voice. "I wish I had him for a dad instead of . . ."

"What? Instead of what?" Kit had never asked about the other Riders' families. They were long-dead in any case, and mostly there wasn't much to tell. But Chance had never even hinted at his past, and no one ever brought up the subject with him around. What were they hiding?

"Nothing. Never mind. Can you get me another blanket? I'm freezing."

"Oh, sure." He went and got the old afghan out of the closet in his room. It was old and falling apart, but it would do for now. "How's that?"

"That's great. Thanks." The ailing Rider burrowed down into the slightly scratchy warmth, trying to get comfortable.

"You sure you wouldn't rather sleep in my room?"

"I'm not kicking you out of your own bed. This is great. Just what I needed."

"I can believe that," said a voice from the doorway.

Kit looked up. "Oh, hi, Dad." He got up and went over to help him in with a big bag of . . . something. All Kit could tell was that it was heavy.

"How's the training going?"

"Great," Kit said. "We had sparring today. If Chance hadn't fainted in the middle of the second round, I think we might have won the match."

"I did **not **faint!" Chance insisted. "I got dizzy and had to lie down."

"In the middle of the floor," said Kit.

"It was convenient."

"Hunt almost tripped over you!"

"Not my fault he wasn't watching where he was going."

"You weren't exactly the picture of innocence yourself. You could have warned someone."

Chance just gave him a look.

"Kit, can you put that stuff over by the work bench?"

"Sure. Uh, what is it?"

"A surprise," Frank said, smiling. Then he turned to his guest. "How're you feeling, Chance?"

"Well, I think I'm a little better, but-" Just then Chance started coughing like a backfiring truck.

"That doesn't sound good," Kit said.

"No, it doesn't," said his father. "How long have you had this?"

"It's fine, really," Chance insisted. "It's just a cold."

"That's what he said this morning, right before he passed out."

"He passed out?"

"Just for a minute."

"Did he see a doctor?"

"I'm right here, you know," said Chance. Then he coughed again.

"We've got some cough medicine in the bathroom," Kit said. "Let me go get it."

It wasn't where he had thought it was; someone had put it away on the top shelf, instead of the middle where all the medicines were kept. Kit grabbed it, tried to think what else he might need, and found himself wondering what it was that Chance wouldn't talk about. Was it something that would land him in jail? Or was it more personal?

He wondered how to ask in a way that wouldn't sound too nosy. But first things first; he brought the medicine to where Chance was waiting on the couch. "Here you go. This should help you feel better."

"What's it taste like?"

"Don't worry about that. You need a spoon?"

"Nah." Chance opened the bottle and took a big swig. "Yeeuuchh." He winced, but swallowed it all. Then he put a hand on his stomach and said, "Let's hope you never have to take this. It's awful!"

"I've had it," Kit said. "Believe me, I know how bad it is. It works, though. Do you need me to get you a cup of tea, or some juice, or something?"

"No, I'm good." He nodded toward the bag which was still in the middle of the floor. "You should put that away before you trip over it."

"Right." Kit strained to lift the heavy sack, managing to drag it across the room to the work bench. "What the heck's in this, anyway? Rocks?"

"No peeking," Frank, who was getting a drink from the refrigerator, said. "It's part of your birthday present."

"My birthday's not till June."

"I know, but I figured we'd have to overhaul the bikes before we head out to Laconia-oops! Let the cat out of the bag, didn't I?"

Kit stood there with his mouth open. "Laconia?" he said at last. "We're going to Laconia?"

"It's time. I did promise you I'd let you come, when you were grown up."

"We're really going?"

"We really are."

"Woo hoo!" Kit gave his dad a high five.

"What's Laconia?" Chance asked.

"The annual Motorcycle Week in Laconia, New Hampshire," Kit explained. "Dad went once with a bunch of his buddies when I was little. I wanted to come, and he said I'd have to wait till I was older."

"Well, you've waited long enough," Frank said. "Now I haven't made all the reservations yet, but I've got the plan about eighty percent finalized, and the rest we can work on together."

"Sounds like fun," said Chance, before he coughed again. "Road trip across the country. Hope you have a good time."

There was something in his tone that made Kit feel a bit guilty, even though he'd done nothing wrong. He was worried that Chance might have something really serious, and wished he had insisted on having a doctor look at him before they left the base. Better still, he should have stayed in the infirmary until this cold or flu or whatever was completely gone. But there wasn't much he could do about it now.

"Kit," his father said, "can I talk to you a minute?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"In private?" He inclined his head toward the hallway.

"Oh. Okay."

The two of them stepped back and once they were alone, Kit and his dad discussed the situation.

"Are you sure he's really okay?" Frank asked.

"I don't know," Kit said. "Is it a problem, him being here?"

"No, of course not. You know your friends are always welcome here. I just don't want to see him getting worse and worse and not doing anything about it. He needs to see a doctor."

"He won't. I don't know why, but he insisted on coming here instead of the infirmary."

"What's going on with that?"

"I don't know." Kit shrugged. "I'll talk to him about it. If he'll talk."

"I hope he does. I don't like to complain, but . . . he's always here. It's like he has no place else to go. You don't know what the deal is?"

"I'll find out."

"Okay. I'll be in the laundry room, if you guys need anything."

Kit went back to the couch, where Chance was struggling to sit up. "He doesn't want me here, does he?"

"He's just worried about you. I mean, you're pretty sick. Are you sure you wouldn't rather be in the infirmary? I mean, just in case?"

"No, this is good."

"Or even your room?"

"I like it here. What, are you trying to get rid of me or something?"

"No, no," Kit said. "I just want you to be okay. If you feel comfortable and safe here, then fine. My dad's not gonna kick you out while you're sick."

"See what I mean? The cool dad. He always sticks up for you. He takes you wherever you want. He'd never beat the crap out of you for no reason."

Kit stared at him. "Is that what your dad did? He hit you?"

"I don't . . . really want to talk about it."

"Okay." Kit nodded. "Can I get you anything?"

"Could you maybe turn off some of these lights? They're hurting my eyes."

"Oh, sure." He switched off the light over the work bench, and the one in the kitchen, before coming back to close the drapes. "How's that?"

"Better."

"Good. You hungry? I could make you some soup."

"No, it's okay. I'm fine."

"All right, if you say so . . ."

Chance looked away for a second, and then he said, "It started when I was about five years old. He kept it up until I was thirteen and left for Training School."

"How did you stand it?" Kit couldn't imagine having to put up with that kind of treatment. His dad had never so much as raised a hand to him, even when he did something worth being smacked for.

"I had a lot of anger, for a long time. So I took it out on other kids. Smaller, weaker kids."

"Like Adam," Kit said. "Len told me about the bear incident."

"It was so ridiculously easy to make him cry. He took everything personally, and he was such a-well, we called him Baby . . ." Chance had another coughing fit, and Kit brought him a glass of water.

"I think you've done enough talking for a while. You just rest right now."

With that, Chance lay back and closed his eyes, and Kit went to get a can of soda from the fridge. Then he headed to the laundry room to see if his dad needed any help.

As it turned out, he was finished with the current load, and he handed Kit a bunch of stuff to fold.

"Everything okay out there?"

Kit sighed. "Dad, I . . . I have to talk to you about something."

"Sure, what?" The room was too small for them to sit anywhere, but he moved some stuff to the top of the machines and then leaned against them.

"Well, it's about Chance." Kit closed his eyes for a second, then continued. "We were talking, and . . . he told me his dad abused him."

"In what way?"

"Beat the crap out of him, he said."

There was a sudden uncomfortable silence in the room.

"We were talking about what a cool dad you are, and . . . I think it just slipped out. And then he didn't want to talk about it."

Kit's dad thought about this for a minute. Then he said, "Do the others know about this?"

"I don't know. I just-I just want to help him, somehow."

"You are helping him, son. Just by being there for him, you're helping him. Don't try to pry too much out of him-"

There was a sound from the other room, a whooshing noise that Kit recognized as the sound of someone passing through a mirror. "Sounds like we've got company. I'd better go see who it is."

"Tell them the coffee cake on top of the fridge is off-limits. That's for my book club."

"Book club?" Kit raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. We usually meet downtown, but there's something going on there tonight, so I said we could have it here."

"Any nice women in this book club?"

"Hey, don't rush me."

"Rush you? You haven't even been on a date since Mom died. I just don't want you to be alone-you know, when I move out."

"I thought you had a year. It hasn't been a year yet."

"Yeah, well . . . I don't know. Look, we'll talk more when I come back, okay?"

"I'll be here."

With that, Kit left the laundry room and went out to the living room, where he found Len sitting in the red chair, sipping a cup of tea and eating the last of the potato chips.

Kit glanced over at the sleeping Chance and then turned back to Len. "Good to see you, man. I need to talk to you about something important."

"Sure, go ahead."

"In private. So we don't disturb-" He nodded towards the couch.

"How's he doing?" Len asked.

"He's . . . okay. So far. But if he gets worse . . . he insisted on coming here, instead of the infirmary. There's a limit to what we can do for him, and . . . can we continue this in the bedroom? I don't want to wake him up."

"Oh, sure." Len got up and followed him down the hall. Once they were behind closed doors, Kit spoke up again.

"How much do you know about Chance's . . . family history?"

"You mean his dad?"

Kit stared at him. "You knew?"

"We all know. It . . . came out, by accident, one day. He doesn't really talk about it much."

There was a moment when it looked like Len might get emotional, but he quickly got himself under control and continued. "He's learned to control his violent impulses, but I don't think he's ever really gotten over it."

"I don't think you can get over something like that."

Len nodded and said, "And there's no way he can have any closure now. The man's been dead for fifty years. He's got no other living family now. Just us." He paced back and forth in the small room, trying to think.

"So what do we do, then?" Kit asked.

"We should work on getting him better, first," said Kit's father. "Then we'll worry about his . . . other issues."

"There's some kind of a connection, I know there is," Kit insisted.

"Funny how this just came up now, all of a sudden," said Len. "He's been fine for years. I honestly thought he was . . . in a place where he could deal with it. I wonder what set him off?"

"Whatever it was," Kit said, "it happened yesterday. Remember last night, how he was so quiet?"

"He said he had a headache. It was probably the start of whatever this is."

"Physical symptoms are often the manifestation of psychic distress," Kit quoted. "If left untreated, they could lead to . . . I forget the rest of it."

"I wish I could find the other volumes," Len said. "There was only one at the yard sale. I've been searching all the secondhand shops, but so far, no luck."

"I know the feeling," said Kit's dad. "I once tried to find volume G of an encyclopedia that I bought from a school library after it closed. By the time I finally tracked it down, it was so far out of date that I didn't want it anymore."

"So what happened then?" Kit asked.

"It's in a box in Grandma's attic. Which reminds me: I need to call her and let her know we'll be swinging by on our way to Laconia."

Len looked at him. "He knows about Laconia?" he asked, inclining his head in Kit's direction.

"It kind of slipped out. I would have had to tell him sooner or later-"

"Wait a minute," Kit said. "**He** knows about Laconia?"

"Of course he does. I invited him. He is family, after all. We can work out the details later."

Just then, they heard a door slam. "Are we expecting company?" Kit asked.

"No."

"Sounded like it might have been the bathroom door," said Len. "Give him a minute, and then go check on him."

Then they heard a thud.

"Oh, God," Kit said, and ran to find out what had happened.

The door was closed, but not locked. He opened it, and found Chance lying on the floor. "Chance! Can you hear me?"

"Yeah, I-" COUGH! "I'm okay."

"What happened? Did you hit your head?"

"No, I just . . . I just fell."

"Can you get up?"

"Which way is up?"

"Open your eyes."

"What? Oh. That's what was on top of me. The floor. Can you help me?"

Kit helped him up off the floor and back to the couch. "You want something to drink?"

"Yeah, I'm so thirsty. I was trying to get myself some water . . ."

"Well, next time, ask me! I'll get it for you!" He got a glass and filled it at the sink. "You could have really hurt yourself!"

"Okay, I'll remember that." Then he suddenly started shaking so hard that he almost knocked the coffee table over. Kit grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over him.

"There, is that better?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"I'll go get started on that soup now."

"I saw him," Chance said, so softly that at first Kit's brain didn't register the words.

"What?"

"I saw him," he repeated, a little louder. "On the street yesterday."

"But that's impossible. He's-"

"I know. But I know what I saw."

"C'mon, man, you know it couldn't have been him -" Kit began, but then Len took him aside for a little chat.

"I'll just go and, um, finish the laundry, I guess," Frank said. "When I'm done, Chance, I'll make you that soup. How's that sound?"

"That's great. Thanks. I know I don't deserve this -"

"Of course you do. Now, I'll be around," he said. "Call me if you need anything."

"Okay."

Frank went into Kit's bedroom, which, as usual, was a mess. He hadn't been home four hours and there were clothes all over the floor. The clothes basket was full of bike magazines and papers, and he set them aside so he could gather up all the clothes.

There was something blue on the floor by the bed, and he picked it up. It was a Red Sox cap - Trish's Red Sox cap. It was signed by Jim Rice; her uncle knew someone on the grounds crew, and he had gotten the autograph for her when she was just a little girl. She'd given it to Kit right before she died.

It must have slipped off the bedpost where he kept it. Frank picked it up and hung it back up, and then he noticed something odd sitting at the head of the bed. Something pink and frilly. He picked it up, and found that it was two things: a pair of socks that looked very feminine. What were they doing there? Was Kit . . . bringing girls home?

They'd have to have a talk about it. Not "the" sex talk - they'd had that when Kit was fourteen - but one about letting him know when he was having company.

He picked up the rest of the clothes and dumped them in the basket. He wasn't sure what was clean and what was dirty, but it would all be washed anyway.

On his way into the laundry room, he ran into Len.

"Everything all right?" he asked.

"Sure," Len said. "Are you all right? You look . . . troubled."

"I'm worried about Chance," Frank admitted. "I hope this isn't that virus they've been talking about on the news. It's supposed to be pretty serious."

"I'm sure he'll be fine."

"What if there are complications?"

"We'll help you take care of him."

"And what happens if you get sick, too? What if we all catch this thing and there's nobody to take care of us?"

"Dad." Len put a hand on his shoulder. "That's what doctors are for. We'll be fine."

"I hope so."

"Anyone ever tell you," Len said with a smile, "that you worry too much?"

* * *

"All right, buddy, let's check your temperature now . . . open up for me, okay?"

"Ahhhh . . ."

"Good boy." Frank slipped the thermometer under Chance's tongue, and then tended to the remains of the soup, keeping it warm. Len had gone back through the mirror, saying he needed to check something and he'd be right back. Kit was sitting up at the counter, drinking some juice and flipping through a magazine.

"Can I talk to you a minute?"

Kit looked up. "Yeah?"

"I found these -" He held up the pair of pink socks -"on your bed. Are they yours?"

Kit stared at them for a moment in confusion, before understanding dawned. "Oh! They must have gotten mixed in with my stuff when I was packing up!"

"Whose are they?"

"They're Alicia's. I'll bring them back to her."

"Alicia? Have I met this Alicia? I don't remember her at the Christmas party."

"No, she couldn't make it. We've been, um, seeing each other for a few months now."

"Son, I'm not going to tell you what you should and shouldn't do. I just want you to be careful, that's all. Just remember that actions have consequences, and you have to live with them."

"We haven't actually . . . done anything, yet."

"Then how did you get her socks off?"

"Practice! We were practicing the Seven Forms! Barefoot! That's it! I swear, that's all we did!"

"Kit, it's okay! Don't get excited." He put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I'm glad you have a girlfriend. I look forward to meeting her. When am I meeting her, by the way?"

"I don't know. Soon, I think."

"What's she like?"

"She's nice."

"And?"

"What? Nice isn't good enough?"

"There has to be more to her than nice."

"Like what?"

"Like, what's her favorite color? What music does she listen to? Does she like movies? What kind? Talk to her, find out what she likes. You might find out -"

A beeping noise interrupted him. "Oh, right, the thermometer. Let's see what it says." He glanced at it with a look of dismay.

"What?" Chance craned his neck to see the number. "How bad is it?"

"A hundred and two point three. What was it this morning?"

"I don't know," Kit said. "We came straight here."

Frank sighed. "I hate to say it, buddy, but . . . I think it's time to see a doctor."

""Please." Chance looked suddenly very young and very, very scared. "Can't I just stay here? I'll be good."

"I really can't -"

There was the sound of a portal opening behind them. "Oh, good," said Kit. "Len's back."

Len wasn't alone, either.

"Hello," the woman in the white lab coat said. "I'm Marjorie West, the doctor on call at the base. You must be Frank."

"I am." He took her outstretched hand. "Talk about perfect timing. You're just who we need right now."

"I can see that," she said, glancing over toward the couch. "How long has this been going on?"

"Well, last night," Kit began, "he was . . . unusually quiet. Went to bed early. This morning, I went to wake him up for practice, and he was . . . like this. I tried to get him to stay put, but-"

"I'm fine!" Chance protested. "It's just a little cold, that's all. You guys don't-" A sudden coughing fit cut off the rest of the sentence.

"Oh, that sounds lovely," the doctor said. "Let me take a look at you, and then we'll decide if it's worth worrying about or not. If you gentlemen will excuse us . . ."

"Oh, right."

They went into the bedroom and shut the door.

"How did you know?" Kit asked Len. "You came through with just what we needed at just the right time. That's kind of scary."

"I actually went to check something else." He took a folder out of his jacket. "We know that something happened yesterday, between twelve and four, that shook him up. What I did was to check the feeds from all the traffic cameras along his route, and at the corner of Milne and Pride, I saw this."

He opened the folder and took out a blowup of a grainy photo. "Here's the enhanced version."

It was a man in a dark coat, who seemed to be staring directly into the camera.

"I don't get it," Kit said.

Len nodded and took out another photo. "This is a copy of the only picture Chance kept of his family." He laid it next to the one of the man. "What do you see?"

Kit studied it for a moment, not sure what he was looking for, and then he saw. "That's what he meant when he said he saw his father! Yeah, I can see the resemblance now."

"We're running him through the national database now to see if we can get a positive ID. I don't know how long that's gonna take. But it proves that he was telling the truth. Or a kind of truth, anyway."

"So what do we do now?" Frank asked.

"Once we find out who he is, if there's a connection . . . then it's up to him. Let's just take it one step at a time for now. Step One is getting him better."

As if on cue, the doctor called out, "Okay, I'm all set. You can come back now."

"So, what's the story?" Frank asked. "Is it something serious?"

"Well . . . I have good news and bad news. Good news is, he won't need to be admitted to the hospital; he can stay here and rest. Just keep doing what you're doing and make sure you get lots of fluids into him. And see if you can get him to eat something substantial. He told me he hasn't eaten anything since lunch yesterday."

"I made him some soup. He took two bites, and then said he wasn't hungry."

"That brings me to the bad news."

"Uh oh," said Kit.

"The problem is not so much physical as it is . . . emotional, I think. There's something bothering him, and until we find out what that is, he won't really get any better. I've tried talking to him, but he didn't seem to want to open up to me. You might have better luck."

Kit paused to think about this. "Yeah, I'll see if I can get something out of him."

"And we'll show him this," Len said, referring to the photograph.

The doctor was looking at it curiously. "That's Dave," she said.

Kit's eyes widened. "You know him?"

"He was a patient, when I was in private practice. I saw him last about . . . oh, two years ago. He was living in a crummy little flat in town. Since then, I've heard, he got married and moved to the suburbs. He has a business selling medical supplies for home care. Why, do you know him?"

"No," said Len, "but we know someone who might. Let's ask him what he thinks about this . . ."

"Are you sure he's up for it right now?" Kit asked him.

"Well, we can try. You ready to go, Doc? I'll take you back now."

"I'm ready," she said. She turned to Kit. "If you have any other problems, or he starts getting worse or something, you know where to find me."

"Hopefully we won't need to."

"It was nice meeting you," Frank said.

"You, too." Dr. West smiled as she left through the mirror, heading back to the base to see if anyone else needed her services. With that, Frank went to the phone and made a few calls.

"Well, the book club's off," he said. "Can't risk having everybody over here with him so sick."

"So does that mean I can have the coffee cake?" Kit asked, grinning.

"Wise guy. Yeah, go ahead. Just save me some, okay?"

"I'm sorry you had to cancel your meeting for us."

"Don't be sorry," Frank said. "Just get him better."


	24. Father Figure pt 2

"So am I gonna live or what?" said Chance, pushing himself up on his elbows. "I mean, should I bother renewing my magazine subscriptions?"

"Don't cancel anything yet, dude." Kit came around and leaned one hand on the wall while the other reached down. "Come on, get up."

"Why? What'd I do?"

"Nothing! I just think you'd rest better if you weren't in the middle of everything. Now, you can either have my room or you can take Dad's bed. You decide."

Chance said nothing for a long moment, and Kit was about to leave him when he said, "You know you'll have to disinfect this whole room before you can sleep here, right?"

"I'll deal with it."

"And then you'll have to wash all your sheets and blankets after you've had a major barf attack. Like I'm about to right now."

"Oh, c'mon . . ." Then he realized that it wasn't a joke. "Okay. Bathroom, now."

When Chance didn't move fast enough, Kit practically dragged him into the bathroom and positioned him over the toilet. He didn't have to wait long.

When he was done, Chance leaned back against the edge of the bathtub and closed his eyes. "See, that's why I didn't want to eat anything. I knew that was coming."

"Okay. So, which room?"

"Actually, I'm fine right here. Nice and cool. Just lay out the sleeping bags, and I'm good."

"You can't sleep on the bathroom floor." Kit reached down and helped Chance to his feet, then asked again, "Which room? You're sleeping in a bed whether you like it or not."

Chance finally let Kit get him settled in the smaller of the two bedrooms. He stretched out on the bed, smoothing the covers up over his chest. "Maybe this won't be so bad. I could get used to this . . ."

"Don't get **too** used to it. We don't exactly have a lot of space for an extra person. Make yourself at home while you're here, but . . . you're not moving in."

"Well, hopefully, I won't need to be here that long." He rolled over, felt a lump underneath him, and pulled out a small, dark green bear. "Is this your bear?"

"No," Kit said with a grin. "It's yours."

"Mine?" Chance looked down at the bear's little round face, staring up at him. "I never had stuffed animals before. My dad thought they were too babyish."

"That why you named your pillow?"

"You heard that story, huh?"

"A few times." Kit realized it didn't exactly paint Chance in the best possible light. "Don't worry about it. You were a kid. It was a long time ago, and you grew out of it."

"I guess so."

There was a long pause, and then Kit said, "So what are you gonna name him?"

"I don't know."

"I'll be out in the living room, spraying everything with Lysol." Kit started to go, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw the bear drop to the floor.

"Here, hold it like this," he said, demonstrating with his own bear. "Hold it in the crook of your arm, like a baby."

"What would you know about holding a baby?"

"You'd be surprised what I know about a lot of things."

"I've held a baby before," Chance said sleepily. "When my little brother was born. They made me sit on the couch with my arms out, and then there he was. He looked up at me with those big blue eyes, and then he let out a little sigh, like 'Ahhh . . .' I was so amazed by him."

"I'll bet he's still amazing," Kit said. "I hope you get to see him soon."

Chance's eyes closed, and Kit straightened the covers over him and left the room. When he got back to the living room, Len was there.

"We've found him," he said.

"How?"

"Google, believe it or not. At first we got hundreds of results - I mean, it's not like David Adams is an unusual name or anything - but when we cross-referenced it with 'home health care', he came up."

"There's an address," said Kase, who was just coming through the mirror. "We need to go there and check it out."

"I haven't told him yet," Kit said.

"Where's Dad?" Len asked.

"He's around, I guess. He's been in and out all day."

"What's he up to?"

"I don't know. I think he's getting more supplies for the Laconia trip."

"What trip?" Kase asked.

"We're taking a road trip to Motorcycle Week in Laconia, New Hampshire."

"When?"

"First week of June, I think. We'll be gone about three weeks, depending on travel time. Dad always plans for extra time."

"Three weeks."

"Yeah."

"In June?"

"Most of June."

"And you're coming?" She turned to Len.

"I'd like to go."

"Oh, babe, any time but June! We've got too much to do to get ready for the wedding! I can't lose you for three weeks a month before the ceremony!"

"Most of the big stuff's already done," he told her. "All we'll be dealing with in June is the last-minute stuff, and I know you can handle that."

"We haven't had a family vacation in years," said Kit. "And now that I've got more family . . . it'll be more fun. We'll stay in touch. It's not like we're dropping out the bottom of the universe or anything."

"But taking off to spend a week with a bunch of greasy bikers?"

"Oh, they're not that bad," said Frank, who was just coming in. "Some of them are friends of mine. Gonzo's gonna be there."

"How's he doing?" Kit asked.

"He says remission is great! Eight months and counting. Gonzo is a long-time biker buddy of mine," he explained to the other two. "He's been undergoing cancer treatments for the past two years, and he seems to be doing really well. He'll be meeting us there."

"That's great! Remember when he asked you to scatter his ashes over Mount Washington?"

"I told him he was being premature. It'll be great to see him again." He glanced over at the couch and was surprised to see it empty. "Where's Chance?"

"I moved him into my room," Kit explained. "He's sleeping right now."

"Good. Maybe while he's out of the way, we can get some cleaning done." Frank grabbed some rags, sprayed Pledge on them, and went to work dusting off the top of the door frame and the cabinet.

"Dad, I'll do that," Kit said.

"I've got it. I've been meaning to do this for months now. Today's a good day to get stuff done."

With that, Kit grabbed some rags and helped with the dusting. They started at opposite ends of the room and worked towards each other while Kase and Len sat and watched. No matter how many times they offered to help, Frank told them, "It's all right. We've got it."

It took nearly an hour to finish the entire room to the older man's satisfaction. "We're done for now," he said. "I don't want to run the vacuum cleaner while Chance is still asleep, and run the risk of waking him up. Are you gonna be here for a while?"

"I'll be around, yeah," Kit said, looking over at Len and Kase. "What about you guys?"

"We're going to talk to Dave," Len said. "According to the schedule he posted online, he'll be downtown at the new hospice center. We can catch him then."

"Good luck. I hope he isn't too weirded out by the whole thing."

"I'm sure he'll listen," said Kase, and then the two disappeared into the mirror.

Kit watched them go, feeling just the tiniest bit of jealousy that they got the cool assignment, and then he went to empty the dishwasher.

* * *

They thought they'd have trouble getting into the building, but when Len explained their mission to the person at the front desk, she cheerfully told them to have a seat. "They're almost done up there. Dave should be right down."

"Thanks so much." Len sat in one of the big round chairs near the snack machines, and Kase shortly followed suit. She thought about taking off her uniform jacket, but there was a bit of a breeze, so she decided against it. It would prove to be the best decision she made all day.

A few minutes later, Dave came out of the elevator, looking like he'd just been awarded the Medal of Honor. Then he saw them sitting there and stopped dead in his tracks. He noticed the insignia on Kase's jacket and said, "You're here about my uncle, aren't you?"

"As a matter of fact, we are," Len said, amazed at this man's powers of perception. "How did you know?"

Dave pointed to the symbol that had caught his attention. "You're Kamen Riders," he said. "Ever since I was little, my father told me stories of the Kamen Riders. He was so proud of his big brother. He really wanted to see him one last time, but he passed away four years ago."

There was silence after this which seemed to last forever. Finally Kase said, "I'm very sorry for your loss. Chance will be devastated. He was just telling us how much he loved his little brother." Then she looked around and said, "Is there somewhere private we can talk?"

He looked alarmed, but she reassured him, "It's nothing like that. He's fine. A little under the weather, but . . . there's something else we need to discuss, and I don't feel comfortable talking about it out here in the open."

Dave nodded slowly. "There's a conference room over here. Nobody ever uses it. Can . . . can I see him?"

"We'll take you there," Len said. "But first there's some things you have to know about."

"What kinds of things?"

"That's better discussed behind closed doors, if you don't mind."

"Oh, of course not."

Once they were seated, Len took out the two photographs and slid them across the table. "The one on the left," he said, "is a family photo from 1931. I believe the younger boy is your father."

Dave looked at it. "He didn't keep any pictures of his family. All his photo albums started when he met my mother."

"The one on the right was taken by a traffic camera yesterday afternoon. That's when Chance saw you, and . . . do you know anything at all about your family history? Did your father ever talk about **his **father, what life with him was like?"

"Just once." He pushed the photographs away. "The only thing he ever said was that he was glad to be away from that man."

"We think we know why," said Kase. "Chance doesn't talk about it much, but he told us once that his father abused him."

"How bad?"

"I don't think we'll ever really know," said Len. "Even after all this time, he hardly talks about it. It took him years to get to a place where he could deal with it. Then, yesterday, he saw you . . ."

"And what? He had some kind of a breakdown or something?"

"Or something. The mental stress weakened his physical body. He's in bed with the flu right now."

"Can I see him?"

"We'll take you to him. He's actually staying at a friend's place. He insisted. I think . . . I think he was ashamed to face us, to admit he still wasn't over all that . . ."

"No wonder Dad never talked about his family," Dave said. "He told me he left home when he was sixteen. I'm surprised he held out that long."

"That makes two of us," said Len. "I can't wait to find out what your father did after he left home. I'm sure it's quite a story."

"Well, my schedule's free for the rest of the day. Can you take me to Chance now?"

"Absolutely," said Kase.

"Great." Dave got up and started toward the door, but neither of his companions moved. "Aren't we going now?"

"Not that way," Len said. "You're going to have to trust us on this."

"Trust you? Why?"

Kase just said, "Take my hand. Whatever you do, don't let go."

"Why not? What are you doing?"

And then he saw Len walk through the mirror, just pass through it like a beaded curtain. "What in the -?"

"Trust us," said Kase. "And, uh, you might want to close your eyes."

Dave didn't ask any more questions after that. He closed his eyes, took her hand, and stepped off the edge of the abyss.

* * *

Frank was waiting for them when they arrived. "Good, you're back," he said. "I think he's getting worse. His fever's gone up."

"We'll take care of it," Len said. "Dad, this is Dave. He's Chance's . . . nephew."

"Hi, Dave. Nice to meet you. I'm Frank Taylor. I've been taking care of Chance while he's here. He's been sleeping, mostly, but I think he's awake now, if you want to see him."

"If it's not too much trouble."

"I think," Len said, "he needs to see you. He's never had closure on . . . his past, and he won't get better until this is resolved."

"Let me go in first," Frank said. "He's due for some more medicine. After that, you can go in and talk to him. I wonder what other secrets he's kept all these years."

"We'll know soon. Go ahead, we'll wait here."

"There's some coffee cake, if you're hungry."

"No, that's okay," said Dave. "I went out to lunch a few hours ago. I'm good for a while."

"I'll have some cake," Len said.

"I shouldn't," said Kase. "But I probably will."

"Why shouldn't you?" Kit asked.

"I'm trying to lose weight before the wedding."

"How do you need to lose any weight? You look fantastic!"

"See, I told you," Len said.

She looked from one to the other. "I do if I want to fit my butt in that dress! It's a size 4!"

"Why don't you just take it someplace to have it let out?" Kit asked.

"Because it was my mother's dress. I've been saving it for years, and if I cut it up and sew pieces of someone else's dress into it, it won't be the same. I don't care if I have to superglue my lips shut for the next two months, I am walking down the aisle wearing that dress!"

"So . . . no cake, then?" Kit said.

She gave him a look.

"Oh, are you getting married?" Dave asked. "Congratulations."

"Thanks," said Len. "It was a long time coming."

"I'll bet. Must be nice to be out in the world instead of in cold storage, huh?"

"You have no idea."

Frank came out of the bedroom, carrying a tray with empty cups on it. "I told him you were here," he said to Dave. "He's anxious to meet you."

"I'll bet he is." Dave stood up. "Just show me where."

"Do you want us to come with you?" Len asked.

Dave shook his head. "No offense, but I think he'd be more comfortable if it was just the two of us. I'll try not to keep him up too long."

"We'll wait," Kase said. "I hope all goes well with you."

"Thanks." With that, Dave went into the bedroom to finally meet the man who had been his hero ever since he could remember.

He got a good look at Chance, and he didn't see much of a family resemblance. Then he glanced at the photograph in his hand, and he saw that Chance took after his long-dead mother, who'd been quite pretty. Dave's father, on the other hand, had resembled his own father.

No wonder he had always hated looking in mirrors.

There was a moment of awkward silence as the two of them stared at each other, neither knowing what to say. Chance coughed, and then said, "Well . . ."

"Well," said Dave. "We have a lot of stuff to go through, but I know you're not feeling too great right now, so I'll keep it short. I've wanted to meet you for a long time. Dad used to talk about you all the time - he was so proud of you."

"I haven't seen him since he was . . . twelve, I think. The last Family Weekend before we started our serious training. How is he?"

"He . . ." Dave swallowed around the lump in his throat. "He died, about four years ago."

"Oh, my God. I'm sorry. I wish I could have seen him, one last time -"

"He tried. He tried to come to, you know, where you were. This was about six and a half years ago, right after he was diagnosed. They told him you wouldn't be out for seven years. He said 'Okay, I'll come back.' Always thinking positive."

"And he died . . . two years later?"

"They gave him a year. He lasted two. But at least he was at home, with the people he loved, when he . . . went. Not in a hospital. I hate hospitals."

"Me, too."

They fell silent for a moment.

"You know, when you're . . . feeling better, I'd love to have you over for dinner some night. I could show you my photo albums. And Dad's notes."

"Notes?"

"He was trying to write his memoirs, but he could never get past the second chapter. But I still have all his notes, and little things he jotted down, and like that. You should have them."

"I don't deserve them," Chance said, looking away. "I left him alone in that house of horrors. I didn't protect him like I should have."

"No, no. You don't understand. It's **because** you left that Dad learned to stand up for himself. Because you **weren't** there to protect him, he had to learn to take care of himself. He left home when he was sixteen, lied about his age, and joined the Army. That's where he met my mother."

"Your mother was in the Army?"

Dave laughed and shook his head. "No, no. Her father was an officer, they lived on the base. She said she liked having someone her own age to talk to, who spoke English. They were in Japan at the time. He told me the name of the town, but I can never remember - Fukuhama or Yokohatta or something like that."

"Is she still around? Your mom?"

"Oh, yeah. You can meet her, too. Look." Dave went through his wallet until he found another one of his cards. "Give me a call sometime, and we'll set it up."

Chance took the card, looked at it, and set it on the bedside table. "Thanks. I'd hug you, but . . . you know. Germs."

"Oh, hell. I've been waiting for this for forty years. A few germs won't matter."

"I don't want to get you sick -"

"Oh, come here." He leaned over and reached out. After a moment of uncertainty, Chance accepted and returned the hug, trying not to breathe on him.

It was some time before they broke apart. When they did, Dave said, "I hope you feel better soon. I'll be waiting for your call."

"Yeah, thanks. I'll . . . I'll get right on that. Soon. I'm . . . kinda sleepy now."

"I'll be going, then. It was good to finally meet you."

"Yeah, you . . . you too." He yawned and settled back into the bed.

"Take care, now." Dave went back out to the living room and announced, "I'm ready to go home now."

"You weren't in there very long," Len observed.

"Yeah, we have a lot to say to each other, but now's not really the time. I left him my number, told him to call me. Thanks so much for all your help."

"Please, get me away from this cake!" Kase said. "You guys are so mean, eating it right in my face!"

"I offered you a piece!" said Kit. "It won't kill you!"

"It won't get me to a size four, either."

"We'll bring what's left back with us," Len suggested. "Someone will finish it off so you don't have to."

"Hey, leave me a piece!" said Frank. "I want to go check on him one more time before he falls asleep. Will you be back later?"

"I hope so." Kit cut a slice of the cake and put it on a plate, covered with plastic wrap. He then went to the fridge and got out two big bottles of juice, one of which was half-empty. "You think that'll hold you, or should I get some more?"

"I think we'll be okay for a while. But if you want to pick up some more on your way home, that would be good."

"Okay, I will. See you, Dad."

"Bye, kids. It was nice meeting you, Dave."

"Same here," Dave said, and shook hands with him. He then turned to the mirror and braced himself for the trip. "Is it any better the second time through?"

"Not really," Frank said. "But just keep your eyes closed and you should be fine."

"Thanks. Now whose hand do I hold when we . . . walk through it?"

"I don't think it really matters. The important thing is that you don't get lost in the Void, or you could end up anywhere."

"Got it."

"You can take my hand," Kit said. "Remember to close your eyes. It's . . . a little bright in there."

"And you do this all the time?"

"You get used to it," said Len. "Let's go."

Frank watched them go, and then went into the bedroom to see how Chance was doing. He was sleeping at the moment. The older man put a hand on his forehead, and was relieved that his temperature seemed to be going down.

Chance's eyes flew open suddenly, and his breathing quickened.

"It's okay. It's just me. I didn't mean to wake you, I just wanted to check on you."

"Did they leave already?"

"Yeah, they just left."

"I miss my little brother. But I'm glad he . . . he had a good life, and that there's a part of him still out there in the world."

"Dave seems nice. You have his number?"

"Yeah, I'll call him when I get home. Thanks for taking care of me, Frank."

"You know what? You can call me Dad."

"Dad." The younger man smiled at that. "Okay, Dad. Thanks."

"And there just might be room on the Laconia trip for you, too."

"Really? Wow! I'll help pay my own way and everything . . ."

"We'll talk about that another time. Right now, you just get some sleep. I'll be out in the living room, finishing off that cake."

Chance closed his eyes again, feeling a sense of peace wash over him. This morning, he'd had no one, and now, in the space of a few hours, he had found himself a family. Life was funny sometimes.


	25. I Can Fix Anything

_(A/N: this was inspired by Daughtry's song "Life After You." )_

* * *

I got the call about four o'clock. When they told me what it was about, I asked them to repeat it.

It didn't make any more sense the second time around.

"Kase ran off?"

"Looks that way. She broke down on the freeway, about ten miles up on the northbound side. How soon can you get there?"

"Give me a few minutes to get my tool kit together. Did she give you any details?"

"She just said there's a lot of smoke. Something must have burned out."

"I hope she doesn't need a part. I'll bring what I can, though."

"If she ends up needing a tow, just call us. We'll send someone to pick her up."

"Roger that. Tell her I'm on my way."

My name is Cam. I can fix anything.

* * *

I hadn't expected Kase to be the kind to run away when things got tough. She was more the "kick your problems in the face" type. Then again, with all the wedding stuff going on right now, she was so stressed that maybe she'd just snapped. It was a scary thought: anything that made Kase snap would probably kill a normal person.

She wasn't hard to find. She'd pulled right off the road, onto the shoulder, and was standing beside her smoking bike. She looked happy to see me.

"It just started rumbling," she said, "and then all of a sudden there was this big clunk, and it started smoking, so I pulled over. I haven't tried to start it again. I don't want to blow anything out or anything."

"Well, there are several possibilities." I got out the Magic Tool Kit and started taking the engine apart. "Of course, it could always be a sign from God. Someone's trying to keep you from leaving."

She heaved a big sigh. "I didn't want to leave for good. Just . . . long enough to clear my head. And not kill that man."

"What happened? Come on, you can tell me."

"It's just . . . it sounds so stupid, but on top of everything else -"

"What?"

"Music. He wanted a certain piece of music, and I said no. He wouldn't take no for an answer. And he's leaving in a few days, and I told him he can't just dump something like this on me and take off, and he said I could handle it, and it just snowballed from there."

"And it ended with you getting on your bike and taking off."

"Well, yeah, I guess so. I've thought about the last few days, and I think it was just stuff building up. I think it's out of my system now. I hope."

"You were on your way home."

"How did you know that?"

"Exit ramp." I nodded towards the ramp, about ten feet away. "You almost made it, too."

"I'm sorry I've been so . . . impossible to live with."

"It's okay. You're just stressed out over - where is my three-quarter socket wrench? I just replaced that thing!"

"Try the other compartments," Kase suggested.

I did. No sign of it. "I've told those guys a thousand times: you use a tool, you put it back where you found it! Somebody's in a lot of trouble." I dug out my phone and called home. "Hello? Yeah, who had my tools last? Cause I'm missing one, that's why. It's a three-quarter socket wrench. Blue dot on the end. Okay, I'll hold."

Two minutes . . . three minutes . . . what was taking so long? I hoped I wouldn't have to replace it. At last, someone different picked up the phone and told me that they'd found it in the top drawer of my dresser - at least whoever had borrowed the wrench knew it was mine, and had put it someplace that belonged to me. He said he'd send someone out with it right away.

I hung up and told Kase, "Help is on its way. I should have you moving in about half an hour after they get here. Maybe less. It's a simple fix, once I have the right tools. And then you can go . . . wherever you want."

She looked away, and sighed. "I guess I should go home and apologize. I was unreasonable."

"You?" I raised an eyebrow at her. "Never!"

"So who's coming? Did they say?"

"No. I hope it's someone who at least knows a socket wrench from a screwdriver."

There was a bunch of trash by the side of the road, and I went around picking it up just to kill time while we were waiting. I looked around for a trash barrel, but there wasn't one, so I started walking towards the ramp. Finally, about a mile later, I found a little store with a rubbish barrel outside. Then I had to walk all the way back.

"What took you so long?" Kase demanded.

"They don't exactly put trash barrels by the side of the highway," I said.

"They have people to do that, you know."

"Why leave it for someone else, when I'm right here?" That was always my aunt's motto: _Don't wait for someone else, do it yourself. _

Just then I saw a familiar black motorcycle approaching. "Oh, no," Kase said. "I'm not ready for this yet."

"Want me to stall him?"

"No, no. He's here, and I'm here, and we might as well get this over with."

"Okay."

As soon as Len pulled up, he dismounted and came over to give me what I needed. "I believe this is yours?"

"Hey, thanks, man. I'll just, um, get to work now." I moved the bike far enough over so that it wouldn't be in their way, and started taking it apart, watching them out of the corner of my eye. I wasn't expecting trouble, but I knew that last argument had been a real doozy, and if things got out of control, at least I had something to defend myself with. Some of these tools are pretty heavy. I was hoping it wouldn't come to that, though.

As it happened, I could hear every word. I probably could have heard it in the next town, if not the next county. Clearly this fight wasn't finished yet.

In fact, it sounded like it was barely getting started.

"What do you think you're doing, Kase?"

"I'm trying to get some time to myself for once! Since you don't seem to want to talk about it!"

"I would if I could get a word in edgewise! But all I've done is listen to you gripe about every single little thing I've done wrong since the beginning of time! I can't wait till we leave for Laconia and I can put all this craziness behind me!"

"Oh, so **I'm** the crazy one? You're the one who wants to dump the theme we worked out months ago for no good reason!"

"Who says I don't have a good reason?"

"Well, tell me, then! Explain why you suddenly want a piece of music that has nothing to do with what we've already spent a lot of time and money putting together!"

I wished I could make them both stop this, but I concentrated on fixing the bike as quickly as I could, so they could finish this at home without bothering everyone driving down the highway or living in the nearby houses. The whole world didn't have to know what was going on.

But this was one argument that was not about to end quickly. If at all.

"I happen to like that piece of music! It has a special meaning for me!"

"But it doesn't go with our theme! You can't just stick in random music because you like it! How's it gonna look if we have a Hawaiian wedding, and we walk down the aisle to the theme from _Star Wars_?"

I couldn't help it; I had to laugh at that. "Dude, seriously?"

"What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing! But . . . she has a point. Doesn't really go with the theme."

"Why are you taking her side?" He glared at me.

"I'm not! I just . . . agree. Anyway, this is pointless." I put my tools down, and came over to where they were standing. "Is it really worth throwing away a sixty-plus-year relationship over something like this? Come on, you're better than that. Both of you. Don't do this to yourselves. You've been through too much together to just walk away. I mean, you're both crazy about each other, and so far as I can see, you're perfect for each other, so what's the deal about one little piece of music?"

Kase blinked a couple of times, but said nothing. As for Len, he looked like he was ready to collapse. I wondered if they were going to turn on me now.

But instead, Len just sighed and said, "You're right, it is dumb to get hung up over something like this. I don't know what I was thinking."

"I was coming home," Kase said, "to apologize. I've been such a total witch lately, trying to get everything done. On my own, as of this Saturday."

"It's mostly done. All that's left are the fine details, and I know you can handle those."

"Okay . . . I think you can take it from here. I'll be -" I nodded toward the bike, but I don't know if they even noticed. So I went back to my repair job, while keeping an eye on the two of them.

"You don't have to do this alone. You have a maid of honor and three bridesmaids who'd be thrilled to help you out. Give them a call."

"Maybe I will."

"I think it was really cool of you to ask Sara to be a bridesmaid, by the way."

"Well, I kind of had to. I mean, you asked Adam to be your best man."

"One of them. I just didn't want to leave him out."

"That's what I love about you. You're always so concerned about people's feelings."

"Even when it seems like I'm not?"

"Yeah, even then."

I peeked at them out of the corner of my eye. They were locked in an embrace, and I suddenly felt like I was intruding and turned back to my work, which was almost finished.

"I lost you twice already," Len murmured. "Three times would just about kill me."

"You think it didn't kill me to lose you? I looked for you for weeks before I finally found you! I thought something had happened, that . . . that I'd never see you again . . ."

"Well, I'm all set here," I announced, but neither of them made a move to acknowledge me. I went on regardless. "You're good to go anytime."

"I've been such an idiot," Len said to Kase.

"I think we were both idiots," she replied. "We got so wrapped up in the little details that we lost sight of the big picture. Let's just stick to the things that matter – we're going to have a beautiful wedding, with all our friends around us, and who cares about the music? It's not important."

"We'll work on that when I get back. If we need to."

"Uh, yeah, I'm gonna head home now," I said. "I guess I'll see you there . . . maybe."

Still no response from either of them. I took it as a good sign, gathered up my stuff, got on my bike, and went home. I knew everything would be all right now.

My name is Cam. I can fix anything.

Even relationships.


	26. Laconia Diaries pt 1

June 5

Kit: Well, I'm all packed. Dad said not to bring too much, so I just packed a couple of changes of clothes and some sunscreen and my toothbrush and stuff. We'll be riding all day, and stopping wherever we can at night. Dad says it should take us a week or so, depending on the traffic. He's got the route all planned out so we shouldn't get too lost, I hope. ;)

Len: Had a long talk with Kase about the trip. She doesn't think I should be taking off for basically the entire month when there's still so much wedding stuff to do. I told her that most of it's done already, and whatever else she needs my help with, we can get done via mirror chat. She's still not happy, but I know she can handle it. Don't worry about the little tiny details, I said. The big things are more important.

Chance: I'm really looking forward to our trip to Laconia. It will be the longest trip I've ever taken in my life. Frank -Dad- showed me the schedule of events. We could go to any of them, he said, all of them, or none of them. There's a beach (not an ocean beach, Lake Winipesawkee - however the fraz it's spelled), and a water slide, and a pier with shops and an arcade. But we'll decide where to go and what to see when we get there.

Frank: I'm ready. The boys are ready. We leave tomorrow morning. Time to give Gonzo a call and see where he's meeting us.

June 7

Kit: The three of us slept over in the apartment, so we'd be ready for the four a.m. wake-up call. Dad thinks that's early. It's not too early for us. Funny how I used to think six was like the middle of the night, and now four is no big deal.

Now it's five, and we're waiting for him to finish packing the bikes, so we can go. Everyone's been to the bathroom already, per Len's orders, so we won't have to keep stopping. We've had our breakfast bars while we were waiting, and we'll probably stop for lunch about 11:30, noon. Where, I can't say. We're not breaking any speed limits, but the quicker we can get where we're going, the better.

Chance: What's taking him so long? It's quarter past five already! Dad was the one who said we should leave early to beat the traffic! At this rate it'll be afternoon before we're -

Oh, here he comes.

Frank: I had a tough time getting the packs tied down on the back of the bikes. And did any of them offer to help? No, they just sat there staring at each other while I did all the work! I hope this isn't how the whole trip's going to go.

(later)

Len: It's about 11:40 now, and we're stopping at this little roadside place for lunch. We haven't left California yet, but we're close.

Before we leave, I want to go into the men's room and see if I can get Kase on the mirror. If no one else is in there, that is. If I have to, I'll wait till we stop for the night. But I promised her I'd try to contact her from the road. It was the only way she'd agree to let me go.

Chance: At least this place does a decent burger. I asked for the condiments on the side, because most places never put on enough, and they said no problem. And the Coke isn't three-quarters ice and one-quarter Coke, either. We have to hit this place again on the way back.

(later)

Kit: We're in Nevada now. Nice little motel out in the desert. We have two rooms - Dad and I are in one, Len and Chance in the other. If it doesn't work out, we can switch it up.

Boy, am I tired. I didn't think I'd be so tired - I mean, I've been sitting down all day. I guess riding all day takes a lot out of you. I turned on the TV, but there wasn't anything good on, so I'm just going to bed.

Len: Had a nice chat with Kase. She says she's happy as long as she knows I'm not getting into trouble. Under NO CIRCUMSTANCES are we allowed to divert to Las Vegas, even just passing through.

She worries too much.

Chance: We're not going to Vegas? What a bummer! It's right there! Thataway! *points slightly southward* Not even on the way back?

June 9

Kit: I don't even know where we are now. All these little towns and little motels are starting to look alike. Dad says we should be there by Friday if we hurry, but I don't know where we'd sleep that night, as we can't check into our accommodations until Saturday at ten.

(later)

Chance: It started raining really hard a little while ago. We stopped at the first motel we found and rushed inside before we got too wet. I'm worried about Len. Rain is his Kryptonite - one drop falls on him, and he's down for the count. Right when we got inside, we took off all our wet clothes and took turns in the shower, then got under the covers and got warm. That should hold it off, I hope.

Len: I don't know what everyone's so worried about. I'm fine, honestly. Stop acting like I'm made of glass and I'll break!

June 10

Chance: Well, this is your basic good news/bad news situation. The good news is, Len seems to have dodged a bullet. Not a single sniffle.

The bad news? Kit's got one of his headaches. He woke up, groaned, rummaged around in his pack for his medicine, and then went back to bed. So we're probably losing a day anyway.

I wonder what's on TV?

Frank: I hate to see Kit suffer like this. At least he took something for it. And this won't set us back too much; I did plan for an extra day of travel time, in case we hit traffic or something.

Also, I heard from the Gonz. He's meeting us in Missouri, just outside of St. Louis. There's a motorcycle club based out of there who are all going to the rally, and they said we could ride along with them. I'm glad to hear that. The thing I loved most about my last Motorcycle Week was hearing all the stories, from people who've come from all over the country. Should be interesting.

(later)

Kit: Ugh. I feel awful. I hate the rain. I hope I don't delay us too much. At least I remembered to pack my pills. Don't know what I'd do without them.

Going back to sleep now.

(later still)

Frank: Kit finally got up a little while ago. He said he was feeling better, but he looked like he wasn't quite awake yet. I told him I was getting dinner and did he want any, and he said he'd try. So I said that he had to eat all his dinner if he wanted a piece of cake.

He just stared at me for a minute, and then the penny dropped. "I forgot what day it is," he said.

So I went out and got some Chinese food and a simple chocolate cake, and we ate and then sang "Happy Birthday," and we all had cake.

"This is better than last year," Kit said.

"Why?" I asked. "What happened last year?" Since, y'know, I wasn't around for it.

"Well, let's see. I got taken home from the police station just in time to get kicked out of the foster home. Then I came home, found this weird thing on the counter, and the next thing I know I'm running from a giant mechanical spider."

"Spider?"

"Yeah, it's a long story. Oh, and then there was that guy in the black sunglasses. What a jerk he was. Whatever happened to him, anyway?" He looked at Len, who shrugged, and then they both burst out laughing.

I looked at Chance, who said, "Don't ask me, I don't have a clue."

So a good time was had by all. We should be moving again tomorrow, still on schedule.

Kit: Best. Birthday. Ever! Even though it didn't start out too great. Am feeling much better now. Yay meds!

June 12

Chance: We're getting close to the Great Lakes region now. Should be in New England by Friday. Met up with Dad's friend Gonzo, who seems like a really cool guy. They kept saying how good he looked, and I didn't know what that meant at first, but then I remembered Dad saying something about him having cancer treatments. I asked about it, and he (Gonzo) said, "Going on a year now. I'm keeping my fingers crossed."

"You wanted us to scatter your ashes over Mount Washington," Dad said, with a smile. "Instead, we're taking a ride on the _Mount Washington_."

"Always wanted to. This is Pete Willis, from the Arch City Riders. Pete, this is Frankie."

Pete surprised me. I mean, Gonzo looked like a biker - long hair (mostly gray), beard, leather and chains, but Pete looked like an accountant. He had short hair and glasses. I guess it's true; it does take all kinds.

"We'll be with you as far as Boston," Dad said. "Then we have a little side trip to make. Promised Grandma we'd drop in and say hi."

"Okay, that's cool," Pete said. "We'll meet up with you at the rally. Where are you staying?"

"Meredith. We've rented a cottage for the week."

"Lucky you. I had to find another place at the last minute after the motel I had booked closed down. Lemme tell you, it's impossible to find a room in or around Laconia during rally week! I ended up booking for three days in Tilton, and the other four in Ossipee. Talk about a scramble!"

"I made the reservations in April, and even then there was a lot of calling back and forth to work out the details. It's a nice place, right on the water. I just hope it's warm enough for us to go swimming."

"Supposed to be nice," one of the other guys in the bike club said. "I just checked the weather report on my smartphone. Sunny and in the seventies all week long."

"Yeah, but they never know for sure," I pointed out.

Everyone looked at me like they were five-year-olds and I'd just told them there was no Santa Claus.

"But in this case, they're probably right," I said.

Boy, did I feel like an idiot.

Kit: Called Grandma this afternoon, told her we'd be on her doorstep late tomorrow afternoon. She was thrilled to hear from me. I can't believe it's been nine years since we last saw each other. She and Grandpa don't travel like they used to. Mostly for money reasons. I mean, we talk on the phone all the time - at least when I'm home we do. But it's not the same as seeing them.

Frank: Haven't realized that we haven't seen Mary and George since Trish's funeral. Seems like just yesterday. They sent pictures from their trip to England, a year ago, and they look older, but don't we all. Kit can't wait to see the house where his mom grew up. Funny to think of Tricia as a little girl. I suppose it must be harder for her folks, seeing her ghost in every room, memories of her at two and five and eight and twelve and eighteen, which is when I met her. So in a way, she'll be with us, too.

June 13

Frank: Said goodbye to Gonz and the guys just north of Boston, proceeded on Route 95 to Driscoll. Arrived just in time for supper.

Chance: Right when we walked in the door, Kit claimed the upstairs guest room that used to be his mom's. We went up to take a look at it, and when I saw that there were two beds, I was about to call the other one when Dad said, "We'll take it," and put his bag down on the bed. Darn it, stuck on the pull-out couch! Oh, well.

Kit: This room seems so small. Hard to believe Mom and all her stuff once fit in this tiny space. Not much bigger than some of the motel rooms we've spent the night in. There were little indentations all over the walls, and when I asked Grandma what they were, she said they were pin holes from all her Rick Springfield posters. She had tons of them.

I can't imagine my mom as a teenager. Or a little girl. After dinner, when we were looking at the photo albums, I saw her in a cheerleader outfit and thought it was for Halloween. No, Grandma said, she was a cheerleader in high school.

"She wasn't just a cheerleader," Grandpa said. "She was head cheerleader. Most popular girl in school, her senior year."

Wow. I always thought cheerleaders were mean girls. At least, the ones in my school were. And not only was she a cheerleader (sorry, **head **cheerleader), she was also vice-president of the French club, Senior class Treasurer, a member of the reunion committee (though she only made it to two), and volunteered at the Rehab Hospital. She also graduated in the top ten percent of her class.

Yup, we've been looking at her yearbook. Took me about ten minutes to stop laughing at the hairstyles and the clothes. Dad was giving me the look the whole time, like he couldn't believe I found it funny. Can't wait to see **his **yearbook.

Len: You know, I never noticed it before, but looking at the pictures, I can see how Kit looks like his mom. It's the smile, I think. He has her smile.

I really wish I'd met her. She must have been a really nice person. The way they all talk about her makes me wonder what she was like in person, not just an image in a photograph.

June 14

Kit: We're about to take off again, on the final leg of the trip. It's seven o'clock, and we have to be in Meredith at ten. We'll stop somewhere along the way for breakfast.

Just a few minutes ago, after we got up but before we got our stuff together, Grandma brought us all outside to show us something.

Under one of the trees in the backyard was a metal plaque. I took a look at it, and read PATRICIA ANNE MCCARTHY TAYLOR, DAUGHTER, WIFE, MOTHER, FRIEND.

"Since we don't have a grave to visit," Grandma said, and for some reason Dad looked kinda guilty, "we put this under her favorite tree. She used to climb this all the time when she was little. Now it's like she's always with us."

"It's very nice," Dad said. "I like the pansies."

"Her favorite flower. She loved anything purple."

I remember that. She didn't wear it a lot - anything with reddish tones clashed with her hair - but anything that came in purple, she would buy. She had a purple quilted handbag for the longest time. I wonder whatever happened to it.

Anyway, it was great seeing them again, and maybe if we have time, we'll stop in again on the way back. That would be nice.

Frank: Yeah, I feel bad that we had Tricia buried all the way across the country from her folks, but what could I do? Fly her body back to Boston and buy a plot here, where we couldn't come visit her? I think the plaque is a nice idea. I hope it didn't set them back too much, but of course I don't dare ask.

(later)

Frank: Drove straight through and made it to Meredith by 9:30. Ate a late breakfast at McDonald's. Will be at the cottage soon.

Clouding up. Hope it doesn't rain.

Chance: Uh oh, cloudy skies ahead. Let's hope we get indoors before the skies open up. And that Kit still has plenty of those pills left.

Len: Go away, clouds. Next thing you know, they'll be stuffing me into a plastic bag. Anyway, Dad says we're practically there already, so even if it does start raining, we'll push through.

Can't wait to see the cottage. It sounds like there'll be room for all of us. After so many nights holed up in motel rooms barely big enough for the bed, it sure will be good to have a bed all to myself. There are four bedrooms, so we'll all have our own. I'd rather be downstairs if I could - cooler on the lower levels. But I won't fight for it if someone else wants it.

Was that thunder? Please let that just have been a truck going by!

(later, at the cottage)

Frank: We're settled in now. It's a nice little place, really. Looks like a chalet, and I understand the owners use it to go skiing in the winter time. I can't imagine trying to drive up that road when it's covered with snow and ice. Bad enough when it's bare and dry.

Rain seems to be holding off for now. Maybe we'll go down to the lake in a bit.

Kit: I love this place! There's a deer head over the sliding doors to the back porch. Not a real one, obviously. Just took a peek, and there's a nice grill out there. I can grill. I think. Shouldn't be too hard, right?

Rooms are staked out. Dad's taking the big room on the first floor. I'm in the small upstairs room, and Len's across the hall. The one with two beds. I asked him if he wanted company, but he said no.

There's another little bedroom downstairs, and I thought Chance would take that one, but the moment he came through the door, he zeroed in on the couch/bed thing in the corner of the living room and flopped down on it. "I'm good," he said, and went right to sleep. I don't know how he can do that. I couldn't sleep right out in the middle of everything. So we left his stuff where it was, and commenced with our own unpacking.

Dad gave Gonzo a call to let him know we had arrived, and to get the schedule of events for the week. There's a lot of stuff going on! I don't know how much we'll actually get to, but just being here is good enough for me. I've wanted to come since I was about six years old. Thanks, Dad! Best birthday present ever!

Len: I went downstairs to have a look around, and there's some cool stuff down there. They have a pool table, a ping-pong table, and a whole bunch of floaty stuff. Tubes and balls and stuff. I hope we can use it while we're here.

Just found a note that says we can. Off to see if I can talk Kit into hitting the water for a noodle fight! That's what they're called, those foam tubes, noodles, right? I hope so. I wouldn't want to look stupid or anything.

Chance: Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz . . .

(night)

Kit: We went out to eat at this barbecue place near Weirs Beach. On the way, we saw some really cool places. Did you know there's a drive-in theater across from the water slides? Must be, like, the last one in the country or something. Maybe we'll go one night, if we run out of things to do. And if Dad can rent a car. He was planning to, anyway, to pick up groceries and stuff. Some things you just can't do on a motorcycle.

Place was crowded - lot of people in town for the rally, I guess. There was a nice girl at the next table who mentioned she and her fiancé (who arrives tomorrow, I guess) are getting married here, right down on the pier. She started talking about weddings, and Len quietly and discreetly suggested we move to another table. He's sick of wedding talk! But he was outvoted three to one.

Gonzo was at a bar with some other guys; Dad's meeting up with them later. After the "children" have gone to bed, ha ha. Maybe I should have waited two years to come on this trip.

Anyway, we're home now, watching TV. The lake out there is so quiet. It's not really a big lake, you can see across our end of it to the people on the other side. Hi, people on the other side!

Chance: I feel like such an idiot. I kept hearing this really weird noise. Really spooky, y'know? So I said, "Are there ghosts out here?"

And Kit looked at me like, "What?"

"Don't you hear it?"

"Hear what?"

Just then, we heard it again.

"Oh, that. That's a loon."

"Loon? Like, a lunatic?"

He laughed. "No, a bird! They nest in the far end of the lake. Dad told me. But not for a couple of weeks, I think. I kinda like the sound myself. Why, does it bother you?"

"No, no," I said. "I just . . . didn't know what it was. Don't get them in our neck of the woods."

And that was all we said about that, though I felt like a real fool for the rest of the night. Maybe I should move into that bedroom after all.

Nah, I like it here. Writing this lying on my back, staring up at the ceiling waaaaaaay up there. Wow. Wonder if I could jump high enough to grab that beam up there and swing myself up. Then I could crawl across it and drop down into the kitchen. Save myself a whole . . . ten steps or so.

Maybe not.

Would be cool if I could do that, though.

Hey, there's a basketball hoop up there. Is there a ball here somewhere? We could stand behind the couch here and shoot baskets, if we had a soft ball. There's a big bin of toys and stuff over at the bottom of the stairs; have to look, in the morning.

It is too damn quiet in this place. Where's my iPod?

There, that's better. Hope the battery doesn't run out.

Len: It's too quiet here.

And I've found that I don't like sleeping alone as much as I thought I would. Went in to ask Kit if he wanted to take the other bed, but he's already asleep. I suppose I could go down and sleep on the leather couch, next to the one Chance is using as his bed, but I don't want to bother him. Plus when Dad comes in, I don't want him to find me there.

Whose dog is barking now? It **was **quiet here! Do I have to go over there and - oh, good, he's stopped now. Good.

I guess I'll try going to sleep again now. Good night.

Frank: Boy, I haven't been out this late in a loooong time! It's one-thirty in the morning, and I'm just getting home. Hung out with Gonzo and some of the guys in a bar down by the Weirs. I didn't drink, of course, having such a ways to travel. Gonzo has a two-minute walk back to his motel from the Weirs, lucky him. He must have booked the room in December.

The kids are asleep. Good thing my room is close to the front door, so I don't have to go tromping around and wake them up. I'll just lock up, get the lights, and get undressed.

Okay, I'm back from the bathroom. I forgot which toothbrush is mine. Someone else has a blue toothbrush. I hope I didn't use his by mistake. I'll ask about it in the morning.I

I wish Tricia could be here with us. She and her folks used to come up here on family vacations when she was a girl. She said once that when they started coming, the water slides were like nothing. They're huge now. That one that's like fifty feet off the ground . . . oh, boy. Don't ask me to get on that thing! It's not so much the slide - I know they're pretty safe - it's the steps going up to it. And up, and up.

We probably won't be visiting the water slides. It would be different if we had little kids with us, but these kids are too old for such things. Watch, now that I've said that, they'll ask if we can go. Just to prove me wrong.

I would like to walk around the Weirs before we go. And ride the _Mount Washington_. Trish and I always planned to come up here and take a ride for our anniversary - twentieth, maybe. It would have been so perfect.

Life doesn't care about perfect.

But we'll go, the family I have with me here.

June 15

Frank: Sunday morning. Sat out on the porch to drink my coffee. The water is absolutely as still as glass. I wonder how warm it is.

The car rental company called and told me I have to pick up the rental car by noon today. I'll go as soon as I've finished my coffee. Wait, how am I going to work this? Maybe if I bring someone with me . . . nah, that won't work either. Great. I'll have to call them back, find out where they're located, and see if I can either walk or find someone with a car to drive me over there.

Just talked to the clerk, and she said that someone can pick me up and drive me to the place. Just like they say in the television commercials. Fantastic! Leaving a note for the guys, and going food shopping.

Kit: Woke up to find no food, and no dad. About to panic when I found the note. Okay, I guess we'll have breakfast when he comes back. Hope he remembers the Frosted Flakes.

Wonder if there's any good cartoons on right now?

Len: I woke up, stepped out of my room, and stopped dead.

Why did I not notice there's a full-length mirror in the hall up here?

It's a little narrow, but I bet in a pinch, someone could come through. And we do have an extra bedroom right now.

Does Kit know about this?

I should try mirror-calling Kase, but I don't know what she'd be doing right now. I don't want to run the risk of catching her in the bathroom.

On the other hand, I haven't talked to her in four days. I should at least try.

But not in the hallway. I'll go in the bathroom.

Just as I'm writing that, I hear the shower turn on. Upstairs bathroom is out, then. Good thing we've got another one.

And wouldn't you know it, when I went downstairs to try that one, it was occupied, too.

Wonderful. Memo to self: book next vacation in a place with twice as many bathrooms as people. If such a thing exists. Frankly, I doubt it, but I can dream, can't I?

So I'm sitting here waiting for A) whichever bathroom frees up first, B) Dad to come back with the groceries, and C) breakfast. There is no food in this place whatsoever. We can't eat out all week long.

I hope he gets corn on the cob. I love corn on the cob.

Chance: What the fraz? I come out of the bathroom, and Len dives in there like he's on fire! I wasn't in there that long! Besides, we've got another one upstairs! Why can't he just use that one?

I went looking for something for breakfast, and all I found was half a jar of instant coffee. No food at all. Why is there no food? What are we supposed to do, forage for nuts and berries?

Then I saw the note. Dad's gone to pick up the car, and then he's buying groceries. Good. Don't forget the peanut butter! And real coffee! I'll drink instant this once, but I really would rather not if I don't have to. When Len came out of the bathroom, I asked him if he wanted me to make him a cup too, but he said he brought his own tea bags. Okay . . .

So right now I'm having instant coffee with the last of the cream, and Len and Kit are having tea with the last of the sugar, and we're waiting for Dad to get back so we can help him in with the groceries. There's no decent cartoons on Sunday mornings, unless you count the ones on PBS. And we're not four years old.

(afternoon)

Kit: After lunch, got out my swim trunks and hit the lake. The water was COOOOOOLD! But only at first. After a while, it warmed up, and I swam out towards the wider part of the lake. I almost got run over by a boat coming in around the point, but I managed to move out of the way in time.

Wonder if Master Eubulon would give serious consideration to putting in a pool at the new place. You know, for exercise purposes.

Len: Kit looks like he's having fun in the water. I like just sitting up here on the porch. How often do we get to just sit and do nothing? I could do this all week, just sit here in the peaceful silence, and read. I brought two books with me, but there are others here, and there's supposed to be a bookstore around here somewhere. Will have to look into that further.

Chance: While they're swimming and hanging out, I'm going exploring. I want to walk around the lake here and get my bearings, and then maybe I'll take the bike out for a spin and see what's around for fun. Is there a movie rental place? A theater, maybe? What's between Laconia and here?

(later)

Chance: Walk in the woods cut short when I was attacked by a constant stream of flying pests. Got tired of swatting and came back in to look for the repellent. There's an empty can in the bathroom, and one that's about three years expired above the fireplace. Guess I'm going shopping.

(evening)

Frank: Grilled hamburgers and hot dogs while Kit made the salad - the only thing I trust him to make. He really is hopeless in the kitchen. I need to teach him how to cook, before he moves out. That doesn't give us a lot of time, but I think I can cover the basics. Like how to boil water. And chicken breasts - anyone can cook chicken. Maybe we'll have chicken tomorrow night.

Chance came back from his outing with six cans of bug spray, a pound of chocolate fudge, and a T-shirt. He says there's a whole shopping plaza at the bottom of the hill - Mill Falls Marketplace. The fudge is from the candy store. I told him after supper, and he had to share. The shirt just says New Hampshire on it. It doesn't look like his size, though. But I didn't ask.

Tomorrow there's something in downtown Laconia that I want to go to, with or without the boys. If they want to come, fine. If they want to hang out here on their own, that's okay too. I don't want this to be one of those family vacations where we're so busy rushing from one attraction to the next that we have no time to relax. What we do, we do. What we don't do, I'm not stressing about. We've got a week. Plenty of time to see everything.

Kit: Dad's going into Laconia tomorrow. I think I'll tag along. I want to see the cute little shops on the pier that I've heard so much about. And there's supposed to be a big arcade, but I heard it might be closed. A lot of stuff doesn't open for the season till school gets out, around the end of June. Or it's only open weekends. That would be a real bummer, seeing as how we have to be out of here by eight on Saturday. We just got here, and here I am thinking about leaving already. I know by the time Saturday comes, I won't want to go home. It's so perfect up here.

Len: Did I hear something about going into Laconia tomorrow? Much as I like it right here, I don't want to be here all alone. If they're going, I'll go. I'm sure there's lots of interesting things to see.

Chance: Lead me to the arcade, baby! I'm not that good at the modern games, but give me a joystick and a fire button, and I'm golden. I hope they at least have Pac-Man. Maybe Space Invaders, the granddaddy of them all. I know it's old-school, but I always thought it was fun. If all else fails, they probably have Skee-Ball.


	27. Laconia Diaries pt 2

LACONIA DIARIES 2

June 16

Frank: We're off to Laconia! It's early yet for any big events, but we want to look around first. We're taking the car so we don't have to pay extra for parking. One meter is plenty to feed. I'm bringing extra quarters, just in case.

Chance: I've got to get some money changed, for the arcade. But not too much. I want to pick up a couple of little souvenirs, and they won't like it if I hand them a bunch of change. I already have a T-shirt. I want to get something small, like a keychain or a snow globe. I'll see what they have and then decide.

Len: I want to find something nice for Kase. Something that she'll really like, that's inexpensive but not cheap-looking. If I see the right thing, I'll know.

I feel like I owe it to her, taking off like this a month before the wedding. I know I told her everything's pretty much done, but what if something goes wrong at the last minute and I'm not there to fix it? How will she ever forgive me for abandoning her?

I'm stressing too much over this. When I talked to her yesterday, she said everything was fine. And she meant it. I can tell when she's hiding something, and she wasn't. I need to stop feeling guilty, and relax and enjoy this time away.

Maybe some jewelry . . .

Kit: Me, I just want to people-watch. The stories that must get told at a place like this . . . We're going to lunch at the Wagon Wheel, which is mega-busy during Rally Week, so there's bound to be some colorful folks there. It's not all burly biker guys like Gonzo: half the people up here are regular vacationers, non-riders who came up for the curiosity factor, or full-time residents. That's right, people actually live here year-round. Wonder what it's like in the winter time.

Then again, I don't feel like driving on icy roads and shoveling snow. I'll stay in nice warm Cali, miserable rainstorms and all. Actually, they're in a bit of a dry spell right now. By the time we get back, they'll be worrying about brush fires. Still better than snow.

But don't tell that to anyone up here.

(later)

Kit: After we walked around down by the pier, we went to an antique bike show. There were some really nice old bikes. It's too bad we couldn't give them a spin, or even just take a picture sitting on them, but it was strictly hands off. I can understand that. I don't like it, but I understand it.

We passed by the water slides on our way back to the car. Looked like fun. Maybe later in the week. I feel a little silly for wanting to go on the water slides when we have a perfectly good lake, but it's a whole different experience. Maybe I can talk the guys into coming.

Frank: Maybe I was wrong about the boys not wanting to go on the water slides. I saw Kit looking. While they were getting their stuff together, I slipped in and checked their prices. They have a special weeknights after seven, so maybe Thursday or Friday night, I'll let them go. Maybe.

Not that I'd be caught dead on a water slide, at my age. But if they need me to drive them, I'll drive. Then we'll go out for ice cream. Hey, why not?

Len: Kit is such a child. Water slides? Well . . . maybe. Just as long as I'm not the oldest person there. I'll try anything once. As long as not too many people are watching.

Chance: Hey, that giant water slide looks awesome! It's a long way up, but I'll bet it's an awesome ride down. Count me in!

(evening)

Kit: All in all, a pretty good day. Len bought this cute little crystal swan for Kase. It's only about two inches high and looks like it's made of colored glass, but I think she'll like it. The trick is keeping it safe until we get home.

Len: I don't think the clerk gave me enough paper for this. What if it breaks before I get it home? I don't want to give her a handful of broken glass. Right now I'm keeping it in the drawer with my clean clothes, but what happens when we pack up to go? If I shove it in the bottom of my bag, it'll get banged around. I should bring it right to her now.

But I can't. If I show up at the base now, she'll think something's wrong. I don't want her to think something's wrong when it's not. I'll wait.

Going to find something to wrap it up extra tight in.

Chance: Why is there no toilet paper in the upstairs bathroom? Don't make me have to come all the way back downstairs and wait! Can't you guys change the roll when you're done with it? Sheesh!

June 17

Kit: No plans today. Hanging out and swimming. It's hot today, hotter than normal for June in this part of the country. Or so they tell me.

We went for a jog early this morning. Uphill, both ways! It was tough, but not impossible. It would have been, a year ago. I can't believe I've come so far without even knowing it. I think back to my first five-mile run, and how I was dying afterwards. Now? Five miles, uphill, in the heat - no problem!

Whoa.

(later)

Frank: You'll never guess who showed up just as I was getting ready to start lunch.

I was inside, just about to go out and heat up the grill, when I heard a car pull up. At first I thought it was next door. Then I went to the door and looked out, and I saw a blue station wagon parked in the driveway. I thought they were someone asking directions or something. Then I saw Mary getting out of the passenger side.

I don't know how they found us. **I** didn't tell them where we were staying. I don't know who did, but I suspect that kid of mine. I mean the one who's blood-related to me. I know he's never been up here before, but if he gave them the address, they could plug it into Mapquest or a GPS (if they have a GPS) and get the directions.

Anyway, they said they had the day off from any obligations, so they decided to come up and see our place. Well, not our place; I mean where we're staying. They used to come up here all the time when Trish was little.

"I remember one place," Mary said, when we were sitting out on the deck. George insisted on taking over the grill from me, no matter how much I protested that I could do it. I guess he wanted to feel helpful. "Was it Ossipee or Silver Lake that had the Budweiser motif?"

"Silver Lake," George said.

"Then it was Ossipee, where we were. We were sharing a cottage with Maureen and Danny and Chris and Sandy. The beach was gorgeous, the water was beautiful . . . but those speedboats came so close to the shore that I was afraid to let the kids go in the water. You see where we're sitting here?" We were at the picnic table, at the far end of the porch.

I nodded.

"If this is the water's edge, the steps over there are where the boats would go by."

The steps leading down to ground level were no more than ten feet away. I would have been worried, too.

"We don't have that problem here," I said. "The boats stay way out in the deeper part of the lake. Unless it's the people next door coming back on their boat. But they were only up for the weekend."

"I can't wait to take a dip."

"We'll go right after lunch," Kit said. Bless his little heart. "I promise not to laugh at your bathing suit."

"I didn't think you remembered that," I said. "You were . . . what, four years old? The year we came for the Fourth of July."

"It was the year Michael graduated from high school, so . . . ninety-two? Ninety-three?"

"Ninety-four," George filled in.

"So you were five," I said. "And you remember that trip?"

"Parts of it. I remember Grandma's bathing suit. And we had popsicles. Benji got mad cause I took the last grape."

"He's at MIT now, you know," Mary tossed off casually. "Studying computers."

"He fixed our printer," said George. "Took him five minutes."

"And he showed me how to set up my Facebook account. It was easier than I thought. And there are blocks you can set up, so no one can steal your identity. You do have a computer, don't you?"

"Not at home," Kit said. "Where I work, but . . . it's a whole separate network."

"They don't get the Internet?"

"Not . . . exactly."

Kit looked at me, and I didn't know what to say. How could we explain that where he works is in a completely different reality? They'd never understand. **I** don't understand parts of it, and I was **there**.

"But we're working on it," he added. "I've got a friend who's pretty good with computers himself. He's actually trying to overhaul the system to make it run smoother. Maybe he can get us hooked up to the Net. I'll have to talk to him when we get back."

"Burgers are ready!" George announced.

Chance and Len appeared from nowhere, and we all ate. They were good burgers, too. Maybe George knew exactly what he was doing when he took over the grill from me. They were juicy, and pink in the middle, but not too pink. Just the way I like them.

Kit: Okay, did **not **expect Grandma and Grandpa to come up! Not that I'm not glad to see them. Did Dad slip them the address when I wasn't looking?

Anyway, it's nice to just sit by the water and relax. I'm working my way up to actually going in the water bit by bit. By the way, Grandma's bathing suit looks nice. It has a skirt, but not a huge skirt. It's almost like a big ruffle. It looks good on her. I made sure to tell her so, too.

I don't think they'll be staying past supper time. Grandpa doesn't like to drive long distances at night. It was nice having them here, just for the afternoon. They should come out and visit us some time. I wonder how much airline tickets are? I'll have to look it up somehow. We shouldn't let another nine years go by without seeing each other again.

(evening)

Frank: George and Mary stayed for supper (okay, I cheated: we ordered out from the Chinese food place down the street), and then they had to go, while there was still light out. I told them we'd try to swing by on our way back, and Mary told me not to go out of my way. "It's all right," she said, "if you just head straight home. We'll talk to you when you get home. And you have to get a computer so we can talk on Facebook!"

God, you'd think she works for Facebook! I understand she's excited about being able to stay in touch with people, but computers are expensive! I'll have to check around for a good used one. But not too far out of date. I used to think that computers were like cars: it doesn't matter how old it is as long as it still runs. But it turns out that some programs won't work with older computers. Who do I know who knows about computers?

Len: I really like Kit's grandparents. It was nice of them to come up and visit us for the day. I kinda wished they lived closer. It would be nice to see them more often. It's good for him to remember that he has family besides us. I know we're a family, but blood is thicker than motor oil, after all.

And that is a really strange saying. I wonder where Dad picked that up? I know he didn't make it up. I'll have to ask him where he heard it.

Chance: It's nice to sit out here on the porch and look out at the water in the fading light. The sun's all but down now, and the bugs are coming out, but I'm prepared. I sprayed an entire can all over myself, so they shouldn't come anywhere near me.

It's so peaceful here. I even like the sound of the loons, now that I know what it is. It's funny, but I never liked meditation time when I was in Training School. I thought it was boring. There were so many things I could have been doing, that I wanted to do, that I just couldn't sit still for long. I had to learn to force myself to quiet my thoughts and just be.

But up here, it's like nothing else matters. There's nothing I need to be doing instead of just sitting here. I could just sit and let go, and never come back. Why would I need to?

Oh, right. _Law and Order_'s starting, and we have ice cream. Two very good reasons to get up and move. Plus this spray is keeping the bugs from biting me, but they keep buzzing around my head and driving me nuts. Time to go indoors.

June 19

Kit: Today we're going downtown to see the final results of the Bike Building competition that's been going on all week, and then tonight after supper we go to the water slides. In between we'll check out Funspot, which we drove by a couple of times. It's supposed to be a big arcade/amusement center, with mini-golf and function rooms. Not that we're planning on having a function there or anything, but I guess some people have company picnics or birthday parties or things like that.

I want to see the prizes they have for Skee-Ball. The arcade at the pier had rinky-dink little prizes, unless you won like a million tickets. I'm hoping Funspot has a better selection.

(later)

Chance: Oh, man, Funspot was the best! Most of the games were little-kiddish, but when we hit the upstairs, we found all the good games hidden away. Games I didn't know still existed.

"What's Gah-LA-gah?" I asked.

"Oh, GAL-ah-gah," Dad said. "It's a point-and-shoot. Like Space Invaders, but with more control."

"I think I'll try it."

Two and a half hours later, when Kit came to get me so we could go home for supper, I was still plugging quarters into that machine, trying to get a high score. I'd still be there now if he hadn't followed the sound of me swearing at the thing. Well, not bad swears. Mostly damn and fraz and words like that. Family place, you know.

"We can come back," he said. He was clutching a plastic bag with the Funspot logo on it, and I wondered what was in it.

"We won't have time. We've only got tonight and tomorrow, and then we leave on Saturday."

"Well, maybe next year, then."

"We're coming back next year?"

"Oh, sure. I'd love to come back, wouldn't you?"

Yeah, that sounded good to me. I let my last spaceship crash and followed Kit out to the parking lot.

"By the way," I asked, "what'd you buy?"

"What?"

"The bag. What's in the bag?"

"Oh, the bag. I actually won that playing Skee-Ball. That, and a plastic cup, and a whistle." He showed me the whistle, in the shape of lips. I thought it was pretty cool.

"You should have come down and played with us, dude. Len and I were competing to see who could win more tickets. He's really good! Not much strength, but precision like you wouldn't believe. He was throwing consistent thirties and forties . . ."

"Sounds like fun." I felt bad that I had been too busy playing Galaga to join them. Or even to watch them play. And now we wouldn't get another chance till next year. Unless we come back tomorrow night.

By now we were at the car, and Dad and Len were waiting for us. Len's bag looked even heavier than Kit's, and I wondered what kind of swag he'd picked up. I still haven't seen it. It's probably nothing special, just plastic junk, but if we go back tomorrow night, I want to know what's at stake.

And play some more Galaga.

(evening)

Frank: We finished up the last of the hamburgers and then went to the water slides. The kids want to go back to Funspot tomorrow night, so maybe we'll go out to eat somewhere in the area before we go play games. I want to use up all the food in the house by tomorrow afternoon, just so we won't have to bring it all back with us. We're going to have enough to pack up as it is.

Tomorrow night is the big bonfire by Weirs Beach, so I want to pack up in the afternoon, so that we can go to dinner, go to Funspot, go to the bonfire, and then come home and go to bed, and then Saturday morning all we'll have to do is strip the beds and pack the bikes. And I expect some help this time!

Kit: Dad laid down the law. We all have to help him pack the bikes Saturday morning. Or, better, Friday night, before we go to bed. I don't want to leave! I've had so much fun up here, I don't want to have to go already! Can't we stay another week? Or two? How about forever?

Len: I don't want to pack either, but we have to. And then we have that long trip back ahead of us. I presume we'll be taking the same route.

Anyway, I don't really have that much to pack. I only brought two changes of clothing. I washed them when we got here, and I'll do another wash before we go. It is okay that we use the washer and dryer, isn't it? I washed everyone else's clothes along with mine, to save water. I should do that again, maybe tomorrow morning. Then we can pack as soon as the clothes are dry, and all we have to worry about is the little incidental stuff.

I have to remember to pack Kase's present in the middle of the bag, cushioned by all the clothes, just in case. I really, really hope it doesn't break before I get it home.

June 20

Len: Wash is in, packing everything else but my toothbrush. I suppose we should all take one last swim before we go. The earlier, the better: then we can hang them out to dry before we go out tonight. We'll need them for the water slides.

Kit: One last dip in the lake sounds like a good idea. Bye, lake. We had a nice time up here. I hope we can come back again next year. How early do we have to reserve to get the same place for the same week?

Dad's bringing the car back. In the meantime, we're under orders to finish up all the food we have left for breakfast and lunch. Which pretty much leaves peanut butter and milk. Someone ate the last of the pancakes last night - I don't know who, and I don't dare take a guess.

Frank: Off to return the car. The guys are going swimming. I'd like to see if I can clean this place up a bit before we go out tonight. The woman who owns the place told me that she has a cleaning crew come in and go over the place, but I don't want them to find a huge mess. Not that we've made that big of a mess. Still, it won't do for them to think we'd just go off without at least trying to straighten up. Must remember to empty all the trash and take it outside.

(later)

Kit: Off to our evening of fun! First stop: Funspot! I'm going to beat Len at Skee-Ball this time, I swear!

Len: If Kit thinks he can beat me at Skee-Ball, he's got another thing coming. His ball was all over the place! Once it even went into the next lane. There's no way he's beating me.

Chance: Okay, one round of Galaga before I go watch the Great Skee-Ball Competition. Maybe two. If I get a decent score, I'll quit early.

(later)

Kit: What is his secret? I have to know! He rolls the ball perfectly every time! No one's that good!

Len: It's so funny to see Kit get so frustrated when all I'm doing is controlling where the ball goes. It doesn't take that much, just muscle control and hand-eye coordination. He could do it if he tried.

Chance: Damn! Did I miss it again? Don't blame me, blame Galaga! Stupid aliens kept sneak-attacking me and blowing up my ships! I would have kept playing, but I'm out of quarters.

Frank: Never knew these guys had such a competitive streak. It's just a game, boys! Don't get all bent out of shape! We've still got dinner, the bonfire, and the water slide. Not necessarily in that order. I think the bonfire doesn't start till nine or so, which gives them two hours to water-slide to their heart's content. I'll just sit and watch, thank you.

(evening)

Frank: Well, I, for one, think we had a nice time. We went to a place called Roadside Charlie's for fried clams and French fries. Then we walked around a bit to let our dinner settle before heading to the water slides.

I didn't think it would be that crowded, but I guess a lot of people were taking advantage of the special. Not all of them were young kids, either. There were quite a few teenagers, and some older-looking people (though none of them were my age).

"Oh, good," Len said. "I'm not the oldest person here."

Chance gave him a look. "Dude, you were born in 1925. I don't think there are too many eighty-three-year-olds here right now. Or ever, for that matter."

"Can we just go already?" Kit complained.

I just sat at the tables just on the other side of the fence and watched for them. If they went on the giant slide, it would be a while.

I guess they went on three different slides. Kit was the first one down, coming out of the second tube from the left. He hit the water, bobbed up and down for a bit, and then recovered. "Whoa!" he said, and got out of the pool.

Len was the next one, from all the way on the right. He looked surprised when he hit the water, and he had trouble getting out of the pool, but once he was on the steps, he seemed to have a better handle on it.

Chance came shooting out of the second from the right, and he popped right up as soon as he hit the water. He snorted water out of his nose and never slowed down, heading right back up to the top.

I got myself a lemonade from the snack bar and watched them come down again and again. They looked like they were having a blast, and I was glad to see it. It was enough for me just to watch them having a good time.

At about quarter of nine, I told them to make this the last run, so we'd have time for them to get changed and head over to the bonfire.

"I'm going on the big one!" Chance announced.

"Not without me!" said Kit, and they raced each other up to the top of the hill.

"They're such children," Len said, watching them go. "Hey, wait for me!"

I had to laugh. How often do they, especially in their line of work, get to do something silly and fun? To just be kids? With the life they've had, they deserve it. I only wish we could stay longer. But I only paid for a week, and if we're not out of the cottage by eight tomorrow, the people coming in are gonna get a nasty surprise.

Once they were out of the water, I went to use the men's room while they got changed. Too many lemonades, I guess.

By the time we got down to the beach, we got a surprise. The _Mount Washington _was just docking.

"We never did take a ride, did we?" I looked over and saw Gonzo had joined us.

"Next year," I promised. "I checked the ticket prices, and they were . . . quite a bit more than I expected. We'll save our money for next year."

"We'll skip the water slides next year," Kit offered. "Unless they get a monster wave pool or something."

"It was fun, though," said Len. "I didn't expect to enjoy it as much as I did. Sometimes it's the smallest things that mean the most."

"Just being here means a lot to me," said Gonzo. "Last year, I thought I wouldn't see Christmas. Now I feel a lot better, and they're finding new treatments every day. I may live another twenty years."

"Let's just take it one day at a time," I suggested. "One moment at a time. Look, they're getting ready to light the bonfire."

Someone had one of those boom boxes, and we could hear the local classic rock station. It seemed to fit the mood.

"I really want to thank you," Chance said, "for inviting me up here."

"Oh, you're family. Think nothing of it."

"No, it really means a lot to me. It's not often someone goes out of their way to make me feel like I belong. Thank you."

I didn't know what to say to that. I never thought of it as going out of my way. Reaching out, maybe, but back in April, when I invited him, he was so miserable that I felt I had to do something. It had seemed like the right thing to do, and now I knew that I'd made the right decision.

There was a real party atmosphere at the bonfire. People sang along with the radio. Some of them danced. I looked out to the water and thought about Tricia. She'd always hated it when I went off to Motorcycle Week, but I think it was because she wanted to come. I wish we had been able to come, the three of us, as a family.

Instead I came with a different family, one not related to me by blood, but still my children. I couldn't love them any more if they did share my DNA.

Kit: The water slide was awesome! I liked the Sling Shot the best, but the Giant Slide was cool too. Every time I splashed down into the pool, though, I thought I would get sucked under and never come up. But that only lasted a few seconds.

The bonfire was nice, too. Like a big party with everyone who's been here all week. That guy Pete was singing along with the radio - every song, he seemed to know the words. Some of his people sang along with him. By the end of the night, everyone was singing.

It's sad to think that this is our last night here. Our last few hours. Tomorrow we'll get up, pack up our stuff, and hit the road. Hopefully it won't take us the whole week to get home. I checked the weather report, and no rain in sight. But who knows what's going on in the other parts of the country?

We never did get to ride the _Mount Washington,_ but somehow I didn't miss it. We did enough to last a lifetime. I'm glad I came. I wish I'd been able to come up with Dad all those years ago, but then this wouldn't have been as special.

Len: The last night is the hardest. Everyone's sad about having to go home tomorrow. I'll miss it here, but I can't wait to get home. I want to see Kase's face when I give her the present I bought her.

Next year, I hope she can come. I hope she would want to. We'll talk about it, when we have a moment. Too much else to do right now. Less than a month now - I can't believe it! After this, everything will change. For the better, I hope.


	28. Laconia Diaries pt 3

June 21

Frank: Set my alarm for five-thirty. The boys are already up, and hopefully packing. I want to be on the road no later than seven-thirty, earlier if we can manage it. Have to remember to leave the key on the table when we go. I'll go do it now.

Kit: I'm going around straightening up, making sure to get all our stuff together. Not that we have much. Just my clothes, my toothbrush, and the stuff I won at Funspot. And my pills, out of the bathroom. Can't forget those. Who knows what kind of weather we're going to run into on the road? I hope I don't cause us to lose another day. I feel so bad about that. I see one cloud in the sky, I'm taking the first dose. If it starts raining, I take more. I will not be a liability this time.

Len: Unloaded and folded the clothes last night, and stacked them on what I thought were the appropriate beds. I hope I got it right. Packed up first thing in the morning, and now I'm pulling up all the stuff from down by the water and putting it back downstairs where it belongs. Once that's done, I need to bring in everything off the porch that's ours, and see that it gets where it belongs. It's the last-minute things that are the hardest, cause you're never sure if you've done everything you need to, or if there's something else that needs doing.

It's six o'clock, and I'm ready to go.

Chance: I'm not. I'm taking my time packing. Taking in every little corner of the place. I've loved it so much up here, I hate to have to leave. I need to find a way to have this kind of peace at home. It's hard because everyone's always coming and going, and there's nowhere to just sit and be. Except the meditation rooms, and that seems too artificial to me.

I'll find something, I know. In the meantime, I'm packing my stuff while I'm watching the morning news. There was a report just now about fighting in Afghanistan, and Kit came wandering in just as they got into the details.

"That's Chris' unit," he said.

"Who?"

"Oh, that's right, you never met him. Chris Ramirez, Quinn's mirror twin. He's a Marine."

"And he's over there?"

"Yeah. Did they say if anyone got killed?"

"I don't know, I missed it."

"Well, they'll probably repeat it at the top of the next hour. If we're still here, I'll catch it then. If not, I'll check in with Trent when we're on the road. He can look it up for us."

"Cool."

Dad came back in from outside. "Hey, guys, I need your help here. Turn the TV off and let's go."

"I'm coming." I grabbed my bag and went out to help him.

(later)

Frank: Finally got going about quarter of seven. Stopped for breakfast at the Dunkin Donuts just before the highway onramp. Hopefully we'll get at least through Massachusetts by lunch time. Not stopping in at Mary and George's this time, but I'll call them when we get home.

Len: I can't wait to see Kase again. I've talked to her a few times over the week, but it's not the same as being there with her. And in twenty-eight days, we'll be getting married. Wow, just four weeks. It blows my mind. I think about it, and . . . I'm just overwhelmed. It's so big, it's unbelievable. The closer I get to it actually happening, the less real it seems. I wonder if she feels that way.

Kit: On the road again . . . la la la la, on the road again . . . okay, I'm not gonna sing the whole thing. But we're off again.

Well, one good thing about being on the road. When I called Trent to find out about that news item, he told me it's been raining nonstop there for days. "If you were here," he said, "you'd be miserable. Don't hurry home; it's not supposed to stop till next week sometime."

"Great. At least I have my pills with me." I'll have to remember to start taking them just before we enter the rain zone, so they have time to work.

"Did you ever find out why you get headaches every time it rains?"

"Not every time. Mostly just when it goes on a long time. It's connected with my Rider abilities somehow, but we'd have to do more tests to find out exactly how."

"Well, stay on top of it, bro. See you in a few days."

"Thanks for the update." He'd been more helpful than I expected; not only did he find out what was happening with Chris' unit, he also gave me the score of a Red Sox game I hadn't even known was on. I flipped around on the motel room TV trying to find it, and couldn't. So I turned on the radio instead.

And so here we are, listening to baseball on the radio, and rechecking our maps to see if we can save some time somewhere. Personally, the more time we spend out of the rain, the better. Maybe the storms will have moved out of the area by the time we cross the state line. I sure hope so.

Len: Dad thinks that if we take a slightly different route that swings further south, we can get home faster. I just don't want to get lost. If we take a wrong turn and end up in the middle of nowhere, anything could happen. I'm all for saving time, but not at the risk of our safety.

Chance: I wanted to put the TV on, but Kit's listening to a baseball game on the radio. I've never understood his fanatical obsession with the Red Sox. But Dad says it's connected with his mother (Kit's mother, that is), so that makes a little more sense. Seriously, when they won the World Series last fall, he went crazy. Hey, some teams have done it more than twice in the last eighty years. Why not follow them? I'm sure his mom would understand.

June 23

Kit: You gotta hand it to Dad. The man knows what he's doing. It's Monday afternoon, and we're already in Tennessee. From this point, we pretty much head straight West. We're logging as much road time as we can, sleeping only about seven hours a night. Sometimes six and a half. With any luck, we'll be home by Friday. I can't wait.

Frank: This is what it's all about. Four guys, and the open road. I'm so glad we can share this experience together, my kids and I. I've waited a long time to be able to take this trip with Kit, and having Len and Chance along is a bonus. I think four is a good size group; we don't want too many people along to have to keep track of. Next year, I might go as high as six, but any more than that would just be chaos. I'll let them decide who gets to come.

Len: We're not even home yet and we're already planning next year? Can't we wait till this year's trip is actually over first? I want to enjoy these last few days as much as I can. Yesterday we ate lunch at a diner with Fifties memorabilia all over the walls. We got our picture taken in front of the jukebox. It's the only picture we have of this trip, and when we get home I'm going to make copies so we all have one.

So far, we're staying on the main highway, not getting lost. I'm relieved.

Chance: I liked the Fifties diner. They had a vintage motorcycle against the wall that looked just like one of the ones we saw in Laconia. When I mentioned the rally, the woman who owns the place, Sally, said she and her husband used to make the trip to Laconia every year until he died, about five years ago. She hasn't been back since, and that's a shame. I told her that if she wants, she can come with us next year. She'd have to make her own lodging arrangements, but we'll ride with her. She said she'd think about it. Kit teased me for "flirting" with her, but I was serious. Dad was a little upset with me at first, but then he warmed up to her, and before we left he slipped her his number and told her to give him a call next year if she wants to go. Now who's flirting?

June 25

Frank: We're making our way through Oklahoma now. Should be crossing the border into northern Texas, and after that, into New Mexico. We're making pretty good time.

Cloudy skies ahead. Kit says there's been a lot of rain at home. He's been taking his pills already, just as a precaution. I'm hoping the storms pass around us, or break up before we get there. We bought some plastic rain ponchos at the last gas station, but I hope we don't have to use them. If there's any thunder and lightning, though, we'll have to find a place to hole up.

Kit: It's already starting to cloud up. I've started taking my medication already, two pills in the morning, just to get it into my system early. If it does start raining, I'll take more. But I hope it doesn't.

Len: Oh, great, rain on the horizon. Not looking forward to that, rain slicker or no rain slicker. As soon as the skies open up, they'll be dragging me off to somewhere dry and wrapping me up and tucking me into bed before I can get a word in edgewise. Please, please, let it hold off for a while. Until we stop for the night, maybe. Until we get home would be even better. Has anyone heard a local weather report?

(later)

Chance: The rain seems to be holding off for now, so we're pushing through. I hope we can make it to shelter before the skies open up. I've got my rain jacket on, just in case. It's starting to get hot, too. I hope we don't have a thunderstorm.

Frank: I have one eye on the road and the other on the sky. The minute it looks like it's going to get bad, we'll pull off and call it a night. Till then, we'll just keep going.

(evening)

Chance: About half an hour ago, we heard the first rumble of thunder. We pulled off the road and found a motel with one room left. Fortunately, it had two queen-sized beds. Kit's already asleep, probably because of the medication. He took an extra dose after we checked in, and it knocked him right out. We've been watching TV, but the cable just went out because of the storm, so I don't know what we're gonna do now. Sleep, maybe, although it's awfully early. Len's gone into the bathroom to try to talk to Kase. I hope she's doing okay by herself. I'll have to ask him what's up with her when he comes out.

Frank: My poor little guy is so exhausted that he just conked right out as soon as his head hit the pillow. He didn't even have time to get undressed. I took his shoes off for him, and tucked him in.

The rest of us are waiting for the rain to let up, so we can actually get to sleep. There is thunder, but it still sounds far off, and I hope it stays there. Len's just left to make a mad dash to the vending machines, to get us some drinks. Hope he doesn't get too wet.

Len: After I got the drinks and some snacks, I ducked into the office to ask if they'd checked the latest weather report.

"'S rainin'," the man behind the desk said.

"Yes, I noticed," I said. "Any idea when it's supposed to stop?"

"Nope."

"Do you have a newspaper I could borrow?"

"'S in the recyclin' bin."

"Thank you." I found the front section and flipped through for the weather map. Possible showers - were they kidding? Nothing possible about it. Rain ending late, clearing Thursday morning, highs in the 70s to low 80s. The clearing part sounded good.

"Thanks," I said, and tossed the paper back in the bin.

When I left the office, it had started really coming down. In the time it took me to walk back to our unit, I got soaked all the way through. I walked in the door dripping everywhere, and grabbed my bag on the way to the bathroom to change.

I was only out there two minutes. I got my wet clothes right off, and hung them on the shower rod to dry. I'm warm and dry now, so hopefully I won't get sick. I'll know tomorrow or the next day. I'm going to bed now. Maybe if I get plenty of rest, I can hold this thing off, or even get rid of it altogether. In the morning, I'll see how I feel.

June 26

Kit: Well, the rain's stopped. That's good. We can get going again. Just as soon as Len comes out of the bathroom. He's gathering up all the clothes he hung up last night, maybe calling Kase one last time. I hope he doesn't take too much longer.

Len: I think the extra sleep did the trick. I feel fine. No stuffiness, no achiness, no sore throat, nothing. If we ride all day, we can be near Vegas by tonight, and then be home tomorrow. That would be great.

Tried to get Kase on the mirror, couldn't get hold of her. She must be busy with something. I'll see her soon enough.

Chance: How nice to see the sun again. We'll be underway again very shortly. I've been watching Len since he got up, and he doesn't seem sick at all. Did we luck out? Or will it catch up with him in a few days? I hope he can at least hold out till we get home.

I've decided that when I get home, I want to start writing my memoirs. I don't care if nobody else ever reads it, I want to write it all down while I still can. Just write it first, then sort it out into some form that makes some kind of sense. I need to find one aspect of my life to focus on, and then arrange everything around that aspect. I'd start now, but I have nothing to write on. Unless I tear out the blank pages of the motel Bible, and that wouldn't be right. Even though I'm not that religious anymore - I was raised Jewish, but I haven't been to services in years - I just couldn't bring myself to vandalize a Bible.

Frank: What's taking Len so long in the bathroom? Is he okay? Should I go and knock on the door or something? Oh, here he comes. Okay. Let's go now.

(later)

Len: We're stopping for lunch, and now I'm starting to feel a little scratchiness in the back of my throat. Oh, no. I'd better see if I can find some cold medicine, the next place we stop. I don't want to slow us down just when we're making such good progress. I asked for an extra glass of water, and that seems to be helping. Maybe I'll be okay till we get home. Then I'll crawl into bed and sleep for a few days.

Kit: Uh oh. I noticed Len clearing his throat a couple of times, and I hope he's not getting sick. I should run over to the convenience store and pick him up something, but I don't know what his symptoms are, and I don't want to give him the wrong stuff. I'll talk to him when we stop for the night.

Chance: I knew it! I knew he would get sick! Now the question is, will he keep going, push through it till we get home, or will he need to stop and get some rest? We might knock off early tonight, if we can get far enough by nightfall.

(evening)

Kit: We kept going as long as we could, but when Len nearly fell off his bike, we decided it was time to call it a night. He's sleeping now. He said he was just tired. He doesn't have a fever, but he's awfully pale, and he sounds like he's a little congested. We'll see how he is in the morning.

Frank: That was scary, when Len almost wiped out. I asked him if he was all right, and he said he was just tired, but I can tell he's sick. I hate to push him when he's not feeling too great. We're so close to home, though, that I'd rather just keep going if we can, but it's up to him, how he's feeling tomorrow. I'll let him sleep in for a bit, and then we'll talk it over.

June 27

Kit: The moment of truth. Do we go on, try to make it home, and hope Len can hold out till we get there? Or do we camp out here and wait till he feels well enough to hit the road again?

My vote is for waiting. I doubt he's in any shape to cross the Nevada desert right now, but maybe with a few extra hours' rest, he will be.

As soon as Dad woke up, we had a confab about it. Dad was all for waiting just as I was, but Chance wanted to keep going.

"It's just a cold," he said. "The guy's not dying. I just want to get home. We're so close now, I think we should just keep riding, and deal with it when we get there. That's what I think."

"I want to get home, too," I said, "but if he's not up to it, we're not going anywhere. I think we should stay put for right now."

"How are **you **feeling, by the way?" Dad asked me.

"Oh, fine. I've been taking my pills. I can hold out till we get home."

"But you don't think Len can?" asked Chance.

"You know what, why don't we ask him? Soon as he wakes up. Which hopefully shouldn't be too much longer."

And, in fact, it wasn't. It was maybe twenty minutes later when he woke up, looking around at us like he wasn't sure where he was. "What's going on, guys?"

"Not much, at the moment," I said. "How're you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess. Why?"

It was Dad who brought it up. "We were trying to decide," he said, "whether to try to make it home today, or hang out here for a while and wait till tomorrow. The weather's not a problem; it all depends on how you're feeling, if you think you're up to the job. What do you say?"

He thought about it. "You'd wait here, for me?"

"What, you think we'd leave you here by yourself?" I said. "No way! One for all and all for one."

"Thanks. I'm actually feeling a little better today. Who bought the Nyquil?"

We looked around at each other for a bit before Dad finally owned up. "I can't stand to see you kids suffer. It worked, didn't it?"

"If you call knocking me out for sixteen hours working."

"You needed the rest. So, when do you think you'll be ready to go?"

"Give me a few minutes to change and get my stuff together and I'm good." He grabbed his bag and went into the bathroom.

So I guess we're going home today. It'll be nice to finally get back, after being away for basically the whole month of June. I'll be glad not to have to stay in these awful motel rooms, though I miss the cottage. But there's always next year.

Chance: See, I told you he was fine. With any luck, we'll be home in time for dinner. Be nice to have an actual home-cooked meal instead of diner food. Not that it's been that bad; some of it was pretty tasty. But still, I want to be home. I just want to go home.

Frank: I'm glad Len's feeling better. I wouldn't want to drag him out if he wasn't ready, but he says he's okay, and I believe him. It's Kit I'm worried about. The forecast says heavy showers for the Los Angeles area, and I know he's got his medication, but how long can he keep taking it before he crashes? Not literally, I mean in the sense of being too exhausted to go on. I hope he can make it home before it catches up with him. If we make it home tonight, I'm going to insist the boys stay the night with me instead of crossing dimensions. I don't want them to get lost in mirror-space.

(later)

Frank: We've just crossed the border into California, at about two-thirty In the afternoon. Should be home in a few hours. We're making phenomenal time, considering the time of day. I'd expect more traffic on these roads at this hour, but I guess they've all got somewhere else to be. Or else they couldn't get off work early.

Len: I can feel the stuffiness beginning to come back. But we're so close! I can't ask them to stop now! But I can't take any more Nyquil until bedtime, wherever we are then. I can make it. I know I can.

Kit: Got my rain slicker on already, and took two more pills when we stopped for lunch. I'm good till we get home. Then I'm going to bed, and I want to sleep till Monday. Not looking forward to the rainy season. Good thing I'm due for a refill when we get back. I don't want to run out.

(evening)

Frank: Made it home about seven o'clock. Ordered some pizza, made some phone calls, watched a little TV, then we all went to bed about nine. Kit in his room, Len on the couch, Chance on the floor next to the couch. I moved the coffee table so he'd have room.

It's nice having one last night together. Tomorrow morning they'll go home, and I know I'll see them again, but it won't be the same. Getting to hang out with my guys was the best part of the trip. Especially since Kit won't be living here much longer. He's already started packing up his stuff for the big move. It won't be till after the wedding, though, he told me. So we still have some time.

Every time I think about him being grown up enough to move out, I see his face as he came down the water slide. He was like a little kid, just having fun and not worrying about anything. I hope we get more times like that.

Kit: It's good to be home. It's great to be home and not have anywhere to be or anything to do, but just to have time to hang out and relax. The best part of a vacation is getting to come home again. Although three weeks of togetherness was beginning to push the limits of what I could stand. Don't get me wrong, I love these guys, but sometimes you just need your own space. Tomorrow I get to go back to my little room on the Base, and pick up where I left off.

Chance: Why do I get the floor? Why can't I have the couch? There wasn't even any discussion about it! Maybe we need a bigger couch. How bout it, Dad? Spring for a pullout job that fits more than one person? I'll pay half!

June 28

Len: Dad woke me up at the crack of dawn (or what felt like the crack of dawn; it was actually a normal time of morning for us, but I've gotten used to being able to sleep in) with a surprise announcement.

"Someone's here to see you," he said.

I stared at him as if he were speaking Norwegian. "What?"

"Come into the living room. She's waiting for you there."

She? It could only be one person. I came out of the bathroom and found that my suspicions were correct.

"Welcome home," Kase said, standing there looking like an angel from heaven.

"Oh, my God," I said. I went over to her. She started to kiss me, but I turned my head away. "Sorry, hon, still contagious."

"I haven't seen you in three weeks. I'll take my chances." She kissed me on the cheek, and said, "I brought muffins. Who wants one?"

"Wait. Before I do anything else, I have something for you." I grabbed my bag from the floor beside the couch and dug through it. "Where is it, where is - ah! Here you go." I closed my hand around the securely wrapped bundle and handed it to her.

She looked at it suspiciously. "Toilet paper?"

"It's inside the toilet paper."

"What, did you use the whole roll?" Chance asked. "I wondered where it had all gone to."

"What is it?" Kase patiently undid each layer of fluffy softness, and finally got to the pink paper the clerk at the shop had wrapped it in. When she got through that, she gasped. "Oh, it's beautiful!"

"I wanted to get you something nice, and I saw this, and it was just perfect." I stifled a sneeze in the crook of my arm. "I take it you like it?"

"I love it! This **almost** makes up for you being gone so long and leaving me to do everything." She gave me a look, but then cracked up laughing at my expression. "I'm kidding! All we have left to go over is the seating chart, and we can do that when we get home."

"So you didn't mind me taking off on you after all?"

"Not as long as you had a good time."

"Oh, we did. It was such a nice place, right on the water . . ."

I told her all about it while we ate our muffins. God, I didn't realize how much I missed her. Three weeks and counting. I can't wait.

Kit: It was so nice to see Kase and Len together at last, chatting over breakfast. That reminds me, when we get back, I have to call Alicia. I should have bought something for her, but I didn't know what to get. And I wasn't sure we were at a point in our relationship where I could buy her gifts and not be accused of having an ulterior motive. Dating is hard.

Chance: Look at them. They'll be here all day, just sitting there talking. I want that. I want someone I can be like that with. But I just don't have the knack, I guess.

I hope Ian likes the T-shirt I bought him. He wanted to come so badly, but I had to break it to him gently that he wasn't invited. Maybe next year. He would have loved the water slides. And Funspot. I can't wait to see his face when I tell him all about it. He'll definitely want to come next year, then. I'll smuggle him in my bag if I have to. He deserves to see everything.

I just hope he remembers to pack the bug spray.

Frank: Well, they're leaving now. It was so much fun having them along. When I started planning this trip, ages ago, it was just gonna be Kit and me, but now I can't picture going back without at least the two of them along. I may have to bring them all, in the end.

And that's just fine with me.

Don't let the _Mount Washington _sail without us. We'll definitely be there next year. However many of us there are.


	29. Viva Las Vegas, pt 1

Kit had only ever seen the Las Vegas Strip on television. The bright lights from the many clubs and casinos were almost iconic, recognizable by anyone anywhere on the planet who had ever seen them.

And now he was there. Riding in a rented limo, through the heart of Vegas on the way to Ian's sister's place, where he and the rest of the groomsmen would be staying this weekend.

It was the trip of a lifetime.

"Wow . . ." Beside him, Adam was gazing out at the wondrous light show with his nose pressed against the window, in utter awe.

"What was it like growing up in the middle of all this?" Chance asked Ian.

"None of this was here when we lived here. It was all just desert."

"Really? All of this was just empty sand?"

"More or less."

"And you're sure Rosalie knows we're coming?"

"Well, I didn't talk to her, exactly. I talked to her granddaughter, Caitlin. But she said she'd talk to her about it."

"Okay . . ."

"I can't wait to hit the clubs later," said Nolan.

"Get lots of pictures!" Kit insisted. "Since I can't go with you. I hate being under twenty-one."

Len just sat there taking it all in, never saying a word. Maybe he was just nervous. Kit couldn't tell. And he didn't want to ruin the mood by asking.

The limo pulled out of the city proper and out into the outskirts. Eventually they came upon an ornate two-story house that looked like it didn't belong out here in the wilds of Nevada. It was much more a San Francisco-type house.

"This is home," Ian said. "This is where I grew up. Wait till you see the attic!"

"We'll see it later," said Chance. "Right now, grab the bags."

"All of them?"

Chance rolled his eyes. "Yours! You packed enough stuff for a whole month!"

"I didn't want to have to do laundry. Besides, I have so much to show Rosie. I hope she's home."

"You're not sure she's home?"

"Like I said, I talked to her granddaughter. She should be here, at least. Is this everything?"

"The rest is all yours. I'll help you carry some of it." Chance picked up one of Ian's bags in addition to his own, and then slung a third bag across his shoulders. "Come on, guys."

The rest of them picked up their bags and followed them up the walk. "I hope she's home," said Kit, "or we're gonna have to go stay at a hotel."

"There's a car," Nolan pointed out. "Someone's home."

"Yes, but is it the **right **someone?" asked Adam.

"We'll soon find out. Go ahead, Ian, ring the bell."

"You ring the bell!"

"She's your sister!"

"Oh, for -" Len reached between them and pressed the bell.

"Yes? Who is it?" It was definitely an older woman's voice.

"Ro? Is that you?" Ian was staring at the door as if trying to see through it.

The woman in the doorway looked good for her age. It was hard to tell exactly how old she was - Ian had said she was younger than he was, but not how much younger - but Kit guessed her age at about seventy-five, the same as his grandmother.

She fumbled for her glasses and put them on. "Bean?"

"Ro-Ro!" Ian leaped forward and threw his arms around her. "Oh, my baby sister!"

"**Baby** sister?" Kit was shaking his head. "This is too weird."

"Tell me about it," said Chance. "Sixty years in and out of suspended animation makes for some awkward family situations."

"Ian seems to be taking it okay."

"Yeah, well, that's Ian for you. Nothing ever bothers him."

As soon as they separated, Rosalie said, "You and your friends may come in. Just leave your bags by the door; you can bring them up later. I have some nice homemade cookies for you."

"Peanut butter chocolate chip oatmeal raisin?" Ian asked eagerly.

"God, stick to one ingredient at a time, will you?" Chance rolled his eyes.

"Ro, this is Chance, my . . . um, that is, we are . . . he and I -"

"We're together," Chance explained, extending his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Mrs. . . Mrs?"

"Oh, just call me Rosie," she said. "We're practically family already. When you say together, you mean . . .?"

"Yeah. That."

"Oh. Oh, I see. Well, I hope you two will behave yourselves under my roof."

"We were planning on misbehaving somewhere else," said Adam. "Only Ian can't come cause we don't let him have alcohol."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"It's Len's bachelor party," Kit explained. "We wanted to take him to Vegas, since none of us have ever been, and when Ian told us that you live here, we decided to kill two birds with one stone and come visit. That's okay, isn't it?"

"Who's Len?"

"That would be me," Len said, stepping forward. "This is Senior Mischief Maker Nolan, and my two best men, Kit and Adam."

Rosalie blinked when she saw them. "Oh! Twins."

"Kind of," Kit explained.

"Mirror twins," Adam went on. "Same genes, different dimensions. That's why I'm old enough to drink, and he isn't."

"Which totally stinks."

"No, it doesn't!" Ian exclaimed. "You get to see the house! I'll show you everything . . . um, you haven't changed things too much, have you, Ro?"

"No, I haven't. I kept it exactly as it was, just for you."

"The attic, too?"

"I've had some cleaning done up there, but I haven't touched anything that's yours. You can take some things with you when you go, if you want."

"That's okay, it can stay here."

"I think she's trying to tell you to get rid of your junk," Chance said to him. "Go through it and see what you want."

"Okay." He started to head for the stairs, but Chance, laughing, stopped him.

"Not now! We're having cookies now!"

"I can have cookies?"

"Of course you can have cookies."

"Even with sugar in them?"

"I think you can handle it."

"Okay. Let's go have cookies. In the parlor?" he asked Rosalie.

She nodded. "Someone needs to bring in extra chairs. There are only four with our dining set."

"On it." Len and Nolan went in search of the chairs.

"Did you take down those awful portraits?" Ian asked.

"Lord and Lady Rottenham? Yes, I got rid of those ages ago. And those heavy gold drapes are gone, too. They made the place such a cave, but Mother was so paranoid about people being able to see what we were doing."

"I thought nobody lived here then," said Kit.

"Well, the houses on either side were just being built when we were children. Most of this neighborhood was built after the war, though."

"Which war?"

"The Second World War, dear. Oh, no, not those chairs. Those are antiques, and I don't want anything spilled on them. I'm sorry, I should have said. We have some chairs in the Gold Room that'll suit. Ian, show them where that is."

"Don't eat all the cookies while I'm gone!"

"Don't worry," Adam said. "Nobody could eat this many cookies." The platter in the center of the table was literally piled high with very odd-looking cookies. He took one and examined it. "Peanut butter chocolate chip oatmeal raisin . . . three cookies in one."

"Ian used to rave about these cookies," said Chance. "It was his mother's recipe. Probably not so much a recipe as 'I can't decide what kind of cookies to make, so I'll put everything together in a big bowl and see what happens.'"

"Are they any good?" Kit asked.

"They'd have to be. She was never this disorganized unless it was on purpose. I could never bring myself to try them."

"Well, try them now."

"You try them!"

"You were the one who said they were good!"

"I said I **thought** they were. I may be wrong."

"We'll all try them," Adam suggested. "On three."

Though somewhat dubious, Chance and Kit each picked up one of the misshapen cookies.

"One . . . two . . . three!" As one, they bit into the crazy confections.

It was some time before any of the three was able to speak, probably due to the raisins. When Kit got his jaw unstuck, he swallowed and said, "Not bad."

"Kinda tasty, actually," Adam observed.

Ian came back with Len and Nolan, each carrying a functional wooden chair, which they arranged around the table.

"I see you've tried the cookies," Rosalie said. "They're quite . . . filling, aren't they?"

"They're great," said Chance. "You may have to bake some more before this weekend's over."

"Oh, I don't do the actual baking anymore," she said. "Katie mostly handles that for me. She's a very helpful girl. I never asked her to move in with me and help me out; she just did it on her own. I don't know what I'd do without her."

"When do we get to meet this Katie?" Len asked.

"She should be home later. She takes classes at night, you know. She's going for her degree."

"What in?"

"I don't know. She's explained it to me a hundred times, but I can never remember. When she gets home, you can ask her."

"She sounds like quite a girl," Chance said. "Is there anything to drink to go with these delicious cookies?"

"Well, let me see. I know I have some iced tea, but I'm not sure there's enough for everyone. I'll be right back."

When she was gone, Ian said, "Maybe I should come with you guys. I'm not sure I can trust Chance in strip clubs."

"Oh, for crying out loud! Is this because I mentioned in group last time that I thought I might possibly be bi?"

"I don't want you leaving me for some girl!"

"I'm not leaving you! Baby, why do you do this? You think I don't love you? You think I don't want to be with you, and only you? I'm not going anywhere. Maybe I wasn't sure about this in the beginning, but I know now that you're the only one I want. That doesn't mean I don't appreciate a nice set of -"

"Here we are!" Rosalie delicately placed a huge pitcher of iced tea in the center of the table, next to the cookies. "And there's plenty more where that came from!"

"But we don't have any glasses," Ian pointed out.

"Oh, of course! How silly of me! I'll go get them." And she disappeared again.

"Don't go," Kit begged Ian. "Don't leave me here by myself while these guys go out and party without me. You said you were going to show me the attic."

"That's right!" Ian suddenly jumped up out of his seat, scattering cookie crumbs everywhere. "Let's go, right now!"

"Right now? Let's finish our cookies first, buddy. Then we can figure out who's sleeping where, and unpack all our stuff. Then after that, we can go exploring. That sound good to you?"

"I suppose you guys will want to go out as soon as possible?" he asked the rest of the group.

"Well . . . it's still pretty early," said Nolan. "Let's all take the tour before we head out to find a good time."

"And you're going with them?" Ian asked Chance.

"I promise I won't stare, touch, tip, or otherwise interact with the young ladies."

"And don't drink too much!"

"When do I ever drink too much?"

"Christmas. You had four cups of punch and sang Village People songs all night long."

"You sang backup!"

"Yeah, but I wasn't drunk. I was just there to keep an eye on you."

"We weren't even together then!"

"I think in some way, I've always loved you. I just didn't know that I did."

"Here we are! It took me a while to find the paper cups - honestly, I think Katie hides them from me! I didn't want to risk the good crystal. Maybe tomorrow night." Rosalie placed a cup before each of the boys, and one at her own place. Then she finally sat down. "So, what have you been talking about?"

They all looked at each other and laughed.

"There are three bedrooms on this floor," Rosalie said, leading them upstairs. "One of them is Katie's, but the other two have two beds each. I use them for guest rooms."

She opened the door to the first of the two guest rooms. "You might not recognize it anymore, Bean, but this used to be your room."

"What did you do? I hope you changed the wallpaper. I'm a little old for circus animals."

"Come in and see."

The group took a few steps into the room. No, there were no circus animals on the walls, which were painted a light green. The matching bedspreads were a green floral print, matching the curtains over both windows, and the carpet was a darker green.

"I like it," said Chance. "Guess we're staying here, huh, Ian?"

Ian was looking around as if searching for something. "Where's my dresser?"

"It's right there. Joseph - that's Katie's father - painted it white a few years ago. It matches the wardrobe."

"Oh." He opened one of the drawers and saw the original color inside. "There it is! Top two drawers are mine!"

"Why don't we leave them to unpack, and we'll move on?" Rosalie suggested. "The other room is a bit bigger - it was once the master bedroom."

"Where's your room?" Kit asked. "Shouldn't you have the biggest bedroom? It is your house."

"My room is actually downstairs, behind the kitchen. It used to be a pantry back in the day. Katie suggested I move so that I wouldn't be climbing up and down stairs all day."

"Oh, okay. That makes sense."

The other guest room was similar to the first, except that it was done all in blue, and had a second, wider, dresser. Also, the beds were doubles instead of twins.

"This'll do," Len said, and lay down on the closest bed to test it out. "Nice and firm . . . I like it."

"I don't think we'll be doing much sleeping this weekend," said Nolan. "Get dressed, and we'll take you somewhere special."

"I am dressed."

"The packet in your bag with the number 1 on it. That's your outfit for the first night. Trust me, you'll love it."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure! Come on, guys, let's give him some privacy."

Kit and Adam set their bags down beside the tall dresser and followed Nolan and Rosalie out of the room.

"It's very nice," Kit said. "Does the closet door open?"

"There's nothing in there but old clothes and some of my mother's hatboxes. Nothing you'd be interested in."

"Old clothes can be fun. I noticed the door has a keyhole. Is it locked?"

"That lock hasn't worked in years. But as I said, there's nothing interesting in it. All these rooms are full of old junk, because I can never bear to throw anything away. It's all my parents' old things, all I have left of them. I suppose I could donate some of it to the Historical Society, but I can never remember to get around to it."

"This whole house could be a museum," said Adam. "Maybe the Historical Society would be interested in buying it, and opening it to the public."

"And where would I go?" she asked him pointedly. "This is my home. I won't turn it over to strangers until after I'm dead and gone."

"It was just a thought."

"Well, just think again."

"I didn't mean they should kick you out or anything -"

"They'd better not try. I know several lawyers who can make their lives very difficult. They can do what they want with it after I'm gone, but while I'm still alive, no one's turning me out of my own home."

"Uh, yeah, okay . . ." Adam, at a loss, finally gave up.

"It is nice, though," Kit said. "I can't wait to see the attic. Sounds like there's a lot of cool stuff up there."

"We used to play up there," Rosalie told him. "There was a trunk full of old clothes, and we used to play dress-up. Ian used to make up different characters that we'd play, tell whole stories about them. Mother always said he should be a writer. If you could get him to sit still long enough to get the words on the page, that is."

"Yeah, that would be the problem. He never stops moving. I mean, literally, never stops moving. It's fascinating to watch."

"What is?" Ian said, coming up behind him.

Without missing a beat, Kit said, "The way Alicia pulls my bed together. It's like a dance, in fresh linen. I could watch it all day."

"Does she know you're watching her?" Chance asked him.

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Who is this Alicia, then?" Rosalie asked.

"His girlfriend," said Ian. "She's a maid."

"She's on the housekeeping staff," Kit clarified. "We've been going together for . . . six months? Seven? It's hard to figure, cause I don't know whether to count from our first actual date or the moment when we admitted we both liked each other."

"What's the difference?"

"Not much, really. About two weeks. So I guess it really doesn't matter."

"Well, as long as you're happy, I suppose. I'll be downstairs if you need me." And they heard her carefully-measured footsteps on the stairs, moving away from all the confusion.

"Are you done yet?" Nolan called out to Len.

"What is this? Am I supposed to wear this?"

"It's not that bad! Let's go!"

"Okay, but . . . what happens in Vegas better stay in Vegas. If pictures of this end up on Facebook -"

"They won't! Stop worrying about it! Tonight is a night to cut loose and have a good time! So let's get the show on the road already!"

"All right, all right! I'm coming!"

Based on Len's reaction, Kit was expecting something a little more outlandish than what the groom to be emerged wearing. It was just a light blue T-shirt with "Groom" across it, and white bell-bottom jeans. It was, however, so out of character - he'd never seen Len in anything but black before - that he laughed anyway.

"Thanks," Len said, rolling his eyes. "I needed that."

"Sorry, man. I couldn't help it. That's . . . quite a different look for you."

"That's the idea!" said Chance. "Can we go already?"

"If this is number one," Len groaned, "I can't wait to see number two. Probably something even more humiliating and embarrassing."

"Nah, we wouldn't do that to you." Nolan slung an arm around the younger man's shoulders. "It's really cool. Far-out and righteous."

"Oh, no. I have a bad feeling that tie-dye is gonna be involved in some way."

"Hey, don't knock tie-dye! I hear it's coming back again!" Kit said. "Have a good time, guys! But not too good, okay?"

"Get me a traffic cone!" Ian called out, as the group went out the door.

Kit looked at him. "Traffic cone?"

"A traffic cone is the sign of a really wild evening! The next morning, the guy wakes up with a traffic cone, a tattoo in an odd place, and an item of women's underwear. I've seen it in all the movies."

"Well, you watch too many movies, then."

"Can we go up to the attic? I want to see if all the cool stuff is still there!"

"I want to see what's in the closet first."

Just as Rosalie had said, the lock was broken. The door opened easily as soon as Kit put the slightest pressure on the knob. The closet was bigger than he had expected, a walk-in with shelves on both sides.

"Oh, wow!" Ian was already poking through the shelves.

"What?"

"They still make Buster Brown shoes?" He held up the box.

"It's probably an old box. Are there shoes in there?"

Ian cracked the lid and peeked inside. "No, looks like cards or something." He pushed the box back on the shelf where he had found it.

"Wait, what's this?" Kit found a square of paper on the floor and picked it up. "It's a photograph. Are these your parents?"

Ian looked at the photo. "That's funny," he said.

"What?"

"That's my father, all right . . . but that's not my mother."

"Maybe it's a sister or a female cousin or something. Half the people in my grandparents' albums are uncles and aunts of theirs that I never met."

"No, he didn't have a sister, just two brothers. One was married, but the other wasn't. And that's not Aunt Tilda." He turned it over. "Nineteen twenty. That's the year my parents were married."

"But that's not her."

"Nope. Don't recognize her."

"Do you think your sister might?"

"I don't know. If I could find the photo albums, there might be more pictures of her."

"You don't know where they are?"

"In the attic, I guess." He looked down at the unknown woman. "Who are you?"

The limo pulled up in front of a flashy club with blacked-out windows and a man at the door, taking names on his little clipboard. "ID," he said, at their approach.

Len, who was first in line, handed over his ID. The doorman looked at the date of birth first, and did a double-take. "Nineteen twenty-six?"

"Look at the name," Chance urged him.

He did so, and understanding dawned in his eyes. "Gentlemen," he said, holding the door for them.

Len raised his eyebrows at this, but went inside without a word. The others followed him.

Once inside, he could see the reason for the unusual outfit. The place was a perfect replica of an old disco, right down to the mirrored ball hanging from the ceiling.

"What, they didn't have the white John Travolta suit in my size?" he asked.

"But that would have given it away!" Adam insisted. "We did find a shirt with the Seventies font, though. Took two hours of Google searching, but we found it."

"You didn't put this trip together at the last minute," Len said to the group as a whole.

Nolan shrugged. "We had some ideas. I was the one who came up with the Seventies theme. There was an ad for this place on another site, so we checked it out. The T-shirt came later."

"We were going to Vegas no matter what," said Chance. "Ian wasn't gonna come, originally, but he found out what we were up to, and then he mentioned that his sister lived here, and so we figured why spend money on a hotel, so . . . long story short, that's why he's here."

"Now go have a good time!" said Adam. "What song do you want me to go request for you?"

"Oh, I don't know. I don't know that many disco songs. You pick something."

"Okay," the younger man said with a wicked gleam in his eye, and he headed off in the direction of the DJ booth.

"I don't know about you," said Chance, "but I think I want a few drinks in my system before I strut my funky stuff. I'm going to the bar. Anyone want anything?"

The other two weren't ready to begin their drinking just yet, so he went off alone.

Just then, the sound system vibrated with the opening notes of "Play That Funky Music." Len shook his head and sighed; this had to be Adam's request.

A rather attractive young lady in a blue silk dress brushed up against him. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said.

"No problem. A little crowded in here, isn't it?"

"Are you kidding? This place is always like this!" She threw back her head and laughed. "You wouldn't think there were so many people who still loved disco, but it's the nostalgia factor."

"Funny how people can be nostalgic for something they barely remember. Nobody here looks over thirty."

She laughed again. "You're right! I don't think they do remember, but they love it! I'm Ashley, by the way."

"Len."

"You know, you look familiar . . ."

He braced himself for the inevitable recognition.

"You look like that guy on TV, you know, the host on _Survivor_?"

He looked at her skeptically. "That's not one I've ever heard before."

"No? Well, you do. It's the jawline, I think. That rugged jawline."

"Really?" No one had ever complimented him on his rugged jawline before. "Thank you."

"You want to dance?"

He looked out onto the lighted dance floor. There were some people dancing - not a lot, but enough so that they wouldn't stand out too much. "Sure, why not?" It was his last weekend as a single man. Why not make the most of it?

"Boys?" Rosalie called up the stairs. "Katie's here, if you want to come say hello."

When they got downstairs, Katie was seated in the overstuffed armchair in the family room. She looked nothing like Ian or his sister. She had strawberry-blonde hair, worn gathered into a ponytail at the nape of her neck, and amazingly clear green eyes.

"Caitlin," Rosalie said, "this is your Uncle Ian."

"We spoke on the phone, didn't we?" She stood up and came over to him, and then suddenly threw her arms around him. "I'm so glad to finally meet you! Gran's told me so much about you, I didn't know what to believe!"

"Oh, believe it all," he said. "It's probably all true. Oh, this is my friend Kit. He's, um, he works with me."

"That is so amazing! I would give anything to do what you do. Tell me something: is that armor really heavy to wear?"

"It takes some getting used to," said Kit. "But now I hardly feel it at all. It's like a part of me."

"Really? Wow!"

"I've only been doing this for about a year, but now I can't remember a time when I didn't. But there's nowhere I'd rather be."

"It's good to like what you do," she said.

"Your grandmother said you're going to school. What are you studying?"

"Medical office management. I actually want to become a patient advocate, but they make you learn the whole thing first. At least I'm not dissecting anything."

"That is a bonus."

"But I have to learn all the jargon so I can translate it into English. Whoever said Latin is a dead language never went to medical school."

"Is it hard?" Ian wanted to know.

"It is. But it's worth it if I can get a good job in my chosen field. Some of the entry-level jobs pay forty thousand dollars a year."

"Is that a lot?"

"That's about eight hundred dollars a week," Kit said. "Three thousand dollars a month. Which could get you a pretty decent place, depending on where you look."

"I'm not even thinking about that yet," Katie admitted. "But I know I will before I finish school. The real estate market's starting to rebound out here, so hopefully I won't have to look too hard to find a nice place."

"My father," Rosalie said, "had this house built in 1924 for just over five thousand dollars. The furnishings were extra; I believe they were another hundred dollars. And the moving company charged him extra because they had to come way out in the middle of nowhere. There was nothing here but desert and a few leftover mining towns with a population you could count on one hand. He had no idea that anyone else would build anything out here, let alone what it became."

"Ro, where are the old photo albums?" Ian asked abruptly.

"I think they're in a box in the attic. Don't go looking for them now. I'll take you up there tomorrow. I have everything labeled, and I don't want you poking through all the wrong boxes looking for something."

"I wasn't gonna! I would have waited for you! Ro, I'm not gonna go tearing around up there pulling stuff out of boxes and just throwing it anywhere! I would have put everything back where I found it!"

"If you could remember where you found it," she said, with a knowing smile.

"That's where I come in," said Kit. "I'll remind him."

"Why the sudden interest in photo albums?"

Ian had his hand on the old photo, but he slid it into his pocket. "No reason," he said.

Ashley was a good dancer, but after three numbers in a row, Len was starting to get tired. "Can we sit this next one out?"

"Sure! Wanna come up to my room?"

"Room?"

"I have an apartment on the third floor. I share with a couple of other girls, but they're out right now. We'd have the place all to ourselves."

Okay, this had to stop. Dancing was one thing, but being alone with her was, he was pretty sure, something that Kase would not approve of. "I think I'd better just go find my friends."

"Aren't you havin' a good time? You looked like you were enjoying yourself."

"I am. I, uh, I should make sure they're not getting themselves into trouble. It was nice meeting you, Ashley -"

"Hey! What are you doing?"

A burly guy in the loudest shirt Len had ever seen crossed the dance floor in a few quick strides, stepped between him and Ashley, and gave him a look of utter fury. "That's my girlfriend you've got your paws all over, pal!"

"What?" He looked at the man, then looked at Ashley, who for some reason had trouble looking him in the eyes. "Look, I was just going to find my friends. There's nothing going on, I swear. I'm getting married next week."

"And you thought you'd have one last fling with **my **girlfriend?"

"Lonnie, stop it," Ashley said, to the floor.

"Shut up, you -" He raised a hand as if to slap her. Len caught it before it made contact.

"If you want to take this outside, I'll be happy to. But you don't ever hit a woman." Even as he said this, he thought of all the times he and Kase had sparred. But that didn't count, did it? Combat practice wasn't the same as beating on your girlfriend.

"Mind your own business, jerk."

"You just made it my business. Let's step outside, and then no one else will get hurt -"

Lonnie, enraged, broke free of Len's grip and charged him, which Len ducked and then grabbed the man by both arms, forcing him to the floor. The bouncer, who was even bigger than Lonnie, came over and hauled the guy out.

Ashley was still standing there, awe-struck. "Where did you learn to do **that**?"

"I'm a Kamen Rider."

Her mouth dropped open. "You mean . . . Lonnie got his butt kicked by a Kamen Rider? Cool!"

"Yeah, whatever. I'm going to find my friends now."

He left her standing on the dance floor. "I don't need this drama. I want to go home."

"This bed is too small," Ian said, as he got his nightclothes out of his bag.

"Looks big enough to me," said Kit.

"Not for two people."

"So you sleep in separate beds for a couple of nights. It's not the end of the world. Besides, you're only six feet apart. It's not like you're in separate rooms."

"When do you think they're gonna be back, anyway?"

"How should I know? I just hope they're having a good time. Whatever they're doing."

"I can't wait till the wedding," said Adam.

"'S gonna be pretty." Nolan finished what was in his glass and signaled for another round of drinks.

"Wait till you see my shirt," said Chance. "I found the ugliest Hawaiian shirt ever!"

"What's it look like?"

"It's green. Kind of khaki green. With black and yellow flowers. I think. I think there were other colors, too."

"Sounds nice," said Adam. "Mine's just black and white."

"Nothing's black and white," said Nolan. "Everything comes in shades of gray."

"The shirt. It's black with white flowers. There isn't any gray."

"There's always gray."

"I think you guys have had enough," said the waitress who brought them their drinks. "I hope you've got a designated driver."

"Got better," said Chance. "Got a limo. Somewhere."

"Well, why don't you look outside and see if it's here?"

"Can't," said Nolan. "Not without the groom. Where's he?"

Adam looked at him. "I thought you knew!"

"How would I know?"

"Well, I don't know! Chance, do you know?"

"Know what?"

"Where Len is."

Chance shrugged. "Somewhere."

"We gotta find him."

"But - but he could be anywhere! 'S a big place! We'll never find him!"

"Split up," said Nolan. "We'll find him faster that way."

"But how'll we find each other when we do find him?" asked Adam.

"Good question . . . we meet back here in ten minutes, with or without him. Then we look again, and meet in another ten minutes, and we keep doing that till we find him."

"Sounds good to me," said Chance, and the three went their separate ways.

Len was beginning to regret letting the guys talk him into coming here. Sure, when they arrived, the faux-disco kitsch had seemed almost charming. Now the flashing lights and pounding beat were giving him a headache.

And he hadn't even had anything to drink yet.

As soon as he found the guys, he was going to call the limo and have it take them back to Ian's sister's place. It was time to call it a night. He couldn't deny that it had been fun (at least until the unfortunate Lonnie incident), but the fun must now come to an end.

He went to the bar first, but they weren't there. For a moment, he thought about ordering himself a drink, but he decided that he couldn't afford to take the time right now, and he moved on to the tables near the bar.

No sign of them there, either.

Should he ask someone? Would they know who he was asking for?

Was he pressing his luck after the dust-up with Lonnie?

If these people would just stop moving for a minute, maybe he could spot one of his friends in the crowd. But just when he thought he saw one of them, somebody got in his way, and by the time they moved away, the person he thought he saw was long gone.

This was getting him nowhere.

Maybe if he went to the DJ booth and had him make some sort of announcement . . .

And just then, he literally bumped into Adam, coming out of the little alcove where the restrooms were.

"Scuse me, I'm sorry - oh, it's you. Where've you been?"

"I was looking for you guys."

"Well, we're looking for you! We're supposed to meet back over there . . . or was it over there? Wait, I'll find it . . ."

"I should never have left you guys," Len muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing. Never mind. Wait, I think I see them over there." Len headed toward a table by the left side of the dance floor. Sure enough, Nolan and Chance were waiting there.

"Hey, guys, look who I found!" Adam announced proudly.

Len sat down in one of the empty chairs and brought out his phone. "I'm calling the limo now, guys. Don't go anywhere till it gets here."

Chance slid sideways and fell off his chair. He lay sprawled on the floor, blinking in rhythm with the flashing lights.

Len sighed and began to punch buttons. It was definitely time to go home.

By the time the limo pulled up in front of the house, Chance and Adam were either asleep or passed out, and Nolan was beginning to fade.

"Come on, guys, we're here." Len nudged the two sleepers. Adam woke up, but Chance was out like a light. Well, no problem. He picked the younger man up and carried him in the house, Nolan leaning on him for support.

It wasn't until they got up to the bedroom and started to get undressed that he noticed someone was missing.

"Where's Adam?"

Nolan looked around. "Wasn't he right behind us?"

"That's what I thought. I'll go check if he's outside. You stay here."

With any luck, he thought, Adam would be curled up in the bushes at the front of the house, safe and sound. But when he looked, there was no sign of him. He looked all around the house, out to the street, and then he had a chilling thought: what if Adam had never made it out of the limo?

"Hope it's not too late to call," he said to himself, and got his phone out again.

Halfway to his next job, the limo driver saw something odd in his rearview mirror. When someone in the back sat up suddenly and asked, "Where am I?", he nearly ran off the road.

One quick call to the dispatcher later, and he was on his way back to bring Adam home.

By the time they finally got it all sorted out and got everyone to bed, it was nearly two in the morning. They slept until almost ten, and Rosalie had breakfast ready, even if they didn't feel much like eating.

"I can't believe you left Adam in the limo!" Kit said to Len.

"I thought he was right behind us! I kinda had my hands full at the time. If we go out tonight, I'll make sure to check that everyone's out of the limo before we go inside. Are we going anywhere tonight?"

"I think that's the plan. If these guys can manage to get themselves out of bed before dark."

Just as he was saying this, Chance shuffled into the kitchen, followed by his better half. Len had put Chance down in the room with the two double beds, since Kit had taken the other bed in Ian's room, but somehow the two seemed to have found each other in the night. Chance was holding Ian's little stuffed animal, Shelldon, in one hand, and it made him look like an overgrown five-year-old.

"Good morning," Kit said, with a touch of amusement in his voice.

Chance just grunted in reply, tried to sit down in a chair, and missed, knocking it over. Ian, who was not used to being the responsible one, picked it up, and then helped Chance sit down properly.

"What did you **do** last night?" he demanded.

"I don't know. We got separated, and by the time I found them again, he was pretty well gone. So don't blame me for this."

"Just gimme some coffee," Chance grunted.

Rosalie gave him a sharp look. "You can ask for it properly," she said. "I don't know what you were up to last night, but that doesn't excuse you being rude in my kitchen. Now, try again."

He sighed. "Could I **please** have some mumble coffee?"

"That's better." She got up and poured him a cup. "Do you take cream and sugar?"

"No."

"I'm sorry?"

Sigh. "No, thank you."

"See, it's not so hard, is it?"

"It is today. I hurt."

"Well, next time, don't drink so much, then."

Chance just grunted in reply and drank his coffee.

"He's not usually like this," Ian explained. "But then, he doesn't usually drink a lot, either. Just at Christmas. He'll be okay later on."

"You wanted to look at photo albums today?" Rosalie asked him.

"Could we? Please? When?"

"Let's finish breakfast first, and then I'll go and get them."

"I'll get them! Where are they?"

"Settle down. I don't want you tearing through everything trying to find them."

Ian's mouth dropped open. "I wouldn't do that! I'd be really careful!"

"Bean, I know you. You have this tendency not to remember where things go sometimes. Everything in that attic is exactly where I want it, and I want to keep it that way. I know you mean well, but I don't want to lose anything by accident."

Nolan shuffled in, looked around, found the coffee pot, and poured himself a cup.

"I just . . . there's something I'm looking for."

"What?"

Adam came in, looking very unhappy. "You left me!"

"I thought you were right behind me," Len said.

"You didn't check! Why didn't you check?"

"I kinda had my hands full at the moment. Honestly, I didn't mean to leave you! Stop being a brat and sit down. You want breakfast?"

At the mere mention of food, Adam's face went green, and he rushed out of the room.

"Oh, dear," said Rosalie. "I hope he's all right."

"He will be," Len said. "He just likes to be dramatic sometimes."

"Do you know who this is?" Ian put the old photograph on the table and slid it over to his sister.

"Are you telling me you don't know your own father?" she said with a smile.

"Not him! The woman! Who is she?"

"I can't see her. I don't have my glasses on. I'll look at it later."

Chance saw the photo on the table, and slid it over to his side. "Who's this guy in the picture with my mother?" he asked.

Ian stared at him. "**Your **mother?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"That's my father."

"Oh, boy," said Kit.


	30. Viva Las Vegas, pt 2

"What is your father doing in a photograph with my mother?" Chance demanded.

"I don't know! I wasn't even born yet!"

"Neither was I! I didn't know they were even in the same part of the country, never mind the same neighborhood!"

"Is there anything on the back?" Kit asked. "A date, a name, anything?"

Ian flipped it over. "Nope. Nothing."

"Is there any clue to how old it is?"

"It would have to be before 1924. That's when we moved here. Well, when my parents moved here; I wasn't born yet. This house behind them looks kinda familiar. That's what I wanted the photo albums for. I think this fell out of one of them, and I want to see where it belongs, if the other pictures in that set give us a clue."

Chance was stroking the photograph gently with one finger. "She's so pretty," he said. "And young. She was only twenty-nine when she died. Would have been thirty in the fall. She looks about . . . eighteen, nineteen? So . . . nineteen-twenty, maybe?"

"Probably."

"I hate to have to drag down all those boxes," Rosalie said. "I could use some help."

"We're on it!" Ian jumped up, ran to the bottom of the stairs, and only then noticed that no one was with him. He ran back, grabbed Chance by the hand, and despite having no idea where he was going, managed to find the boxes and carry them all downstairs in four different trips. At the end of the fourth trip up and down the stairs, he started lining the boxes up and checking the labels on the outside to be sure he had the right ones. "Hey, guys, little help here?"

With that, Len and Kit got up and went to help look through the boxes, though they weren't sure what it was they were looking for. It took them some time to check everything, but it went much more quickly when Nolan finished his coffee and joined them. He never once complained about how he was feeling, but they noticed that he wasn't his usual lively self. In fact, he more closely resembled a zombie, only without the gray skin and the brain-eating.

"Where's Adam?" Kit asked.

"Still in the bathroom, I guess." Len glanced toward the hall, and the closed bathroom door.

"Poor kid can't hold his liquor," Chance said.

Len gave him a look. "Oh, yeah, and you're the model of sobriety."

"You make it sound like I go on a binge every weekend or something! You know I don't drink all that often! Once a year, twice if I'm lucky -"

"Guys," Kit interrupted. "What's that noise?"

"What noise?" asked Ian.

"Listen."

They fell silent, and at that moment, a low, rumbling growl could be heard.

"Some kind of construction, maybe?"

Len looked out the window. "No, no sign of any equipment. Not a cloud in the sky, either."

Suddenly Rosalie laughed. "Oh, that's Katie!"

They all looked at her.

"She has a deviated septum. She really should get that corrected."

"Sounds worse than Chance with a head cold," said Ian.

"A lot worse," Chance agreed. "I've heard some pretty bad congested snoring before, but this is like a full-blown case of bronchitis."

"Should we go wake her up?" Kit asked. "I mean, is she okay?"

"I guess so," said Rosalie. "She usually is, once she wakes up on her -"

"Got it!" Ian exclaimed, holding up a dusty, cloth-covered album that said MEMORIES on it. "I knew it was in here somewhere!" He set the album on the table and started flipping pages to find the empty space where the photo he had found had formerly rested. About halfway through, he found it, a blank slot up in the right corner. The glue had long since dried out from the hot, dry conditions, and as he touched the page, one of the other pictures fell out, and another was hanging by a thread.

"What we need," he said, "is some Super Glue. Do you have any?"

"Look in the drawer beside the sink there."

He opened one drawer that was nowhere near the sink, found nothing but silverware, tried another, and finally happened upon the right drawer purely by chance. Propped up against an empty Mason jar was a shriveled tube of glue. He grabbed it and brought it back. "Here."

"Me? You're the one who wanted it!"

"I did?"

Rosalie just sighed. "You never change, Bean." She pushed the album over to him and got up to make some more coffee. They were probably going to need it.

Chance suddenly bolted out of his chair. "I hope Adam's out of the bathroom, cause I need to get in, now!"

"Try the one upstairs," Rosalie said, but Chance was already gone. He was back in seconds, though.

"Do you have a key for that door? I've knocked and knocked, and he's not answering me. Either he slipped out and locked the door behind him, or . . ."

"Or he choked on his own vomit and died?" Ian, who was happily gluing pictures, said.

Everyone glared at him.

"What? It happens! Mostly to rock stars. Anyway, the key's in that drawer. I saw it when I went to get the glue. I think it's the right key."

"I'll break the door down if I have to." Chance took the key and went to try it. It must have worked, because next they heard his voice from within the bathroom: "Adam, come on, what are you doing? No, you can't sleep on the bathroom floor. Come on."

He came out, supporting - almost carrying - the younger man, and put him on the living room couch. "There. If you want to sleep, sleep here. I'll get you a bucket or something. Don't scare us like that, man. You need a blanket?"

Mumbled response.

"Okay, then. We're all here; just call us if you need anything."

Another mumbled reply. Then he made a choking, gagging noise that sent Chance running to find a bucket or something similar. The closest he came was the big vase on the coffee table. He carefully laid the flowers aside, dumped out the water, and brought it over just in time.

"Can someone put those flowers in the blue vase before they die?" Rosalie said.

"I'm sorry," Chance called out to her. "It was an emergency."

"I'm aware of that. I just don't see why you have to take it out on the poor flowers."

"I got it," Ian said, and took care of the poor flowers.

In all the confusion, no one noticed that the rumbling from upstairs had stopped. When Kaitlyn finally appeared in the kitchen, everyone was surprised to see her.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"We think your great-grandfather hooked up with my mother," Chance said. "Which would make us . . . what, exactly? I'm confused."

"So am I."

"I don't even know what's going on," said Nolan.

Chance looked at him in surprise. "It's alive! Where've you been, buddy?"

"Right here. What are we doing?"

"Finding out how my mother knows Ian's father."

"Oh. Wait - what?"

"Yeah, freaky, isn't it? To think that they had these other lives before we were born, that we don't know anything about . . ."

"I know how to find out," said Len. "Anyone know where my phone is?"

"Did you leave it at the club?" asked Kit.

"No, I'm positive I had it when we came home. It must be upstairs." He went to get it.

"I think I might have found something," Ian said, turning over one of the photos that had fallen out of the album. "This one has something written on the back. 'Channing Street, 1920.' Where's that?"

"That's where my mom grew up," said Chance. "It's in New York. Town called Adelina, just outside of Yonkers. She used to tell me stories all the time about the old neighborhood. I don't remember if she ever mentioned your father."

"How would you know? You didn't know who he was."

"Well, what was his name?"

"Harrison. Harrison Fletcher."

"Hmm . . . ouch, my brain hurts."

"No more drinking. I mean it."

"Oh, come on! It's not like I'm some kind of alcoholic or something! Ow . . ."

"Would you people please keep it down?" Adam called from the other room. "Let me die in peace!"

"You're not dying," said Len, who had come back with his phone. "Trust me, this will pass. And I'm sorry I left you in the limo. I won't do that again."

"Right now I just want to sleep, but my head's killing me."

"Join the club," groaned Chance.

"What did you guys **do** last night?" Katie asked.

"Besides drink? I'm not sure."

"You guys want some Tylenol or something?" Len started to put his phone down, but Katie stepped in.

"I'll take care of this. You just go make your phone call."

"You sure? I don't mind -"

"You've got enough to do. I'll handle it."

"Well, okay . . ."

With that, he went into the other room, and she went off to find the painkillers. Kit was left sitting by himself, not knowing what to do.

"Can you hold this for me for a second?" Ian said, handing him the photograph. "I just want to glue this back in where it belongs. And maybe some of the others too."

"Have you looked at the others to see if there's any more information on the back?"

"I doubt there is."

"Maybe you should try anyway."

"I don't want to rip them out if they're not falling out. Mother would be furious if I ripped the pages."

Kit had to smile. "I don't think she'd know about it."

"Mother always knows."

"Okay, fine. Just look at the loose ones, then."

But there was no further writing on the backs of the other pictures. Disappointed, Ian glued each one in place, as even and straight as if he had used a ruler. "Mother" would be mad if they weren't perfect. Kit thought it was a little silly to worry about pleasing a woman who'd been dead more than forty years already, but he said nothing.

"Okay," Len said, coming back from his phone call. "I talked to Price, and he's going to look up some stuff on Family Tree dot com. If it's not there, he can do a Google search and see what comes up. One way or another, we'll get to the bottom of this."

"Good," said Ian. "I want to be able to sleep with Chance again."

Chance, who had his head down on the kitchen table, looked up, and then went back to sleep.

"Where'd your sister go?" Len asked Ian.

"I don't know. She could be anywhere."

"She's in her room, taking a nap," said Katie. "If she doesn't take a nap in the morning, she can't stay awake through her soaps in the afternoon."

"But it's Saturday."

"She'll watch a movie or something. I think we should all have some quiet time now. I'll be upstairs."

"Um . . . okay. When I'm done with this, what should I do?"

"I don't know. Did you bring a book?"

"I think so."

"If you don't have one, there's some in the bookcase beside the TV. Just put it back when you're done."

"Are they still alphabetical?"

"The ones here are, by title, and the ones upstairs are by author."

"What must it have been like," Kit wondered aloud, "to grow up in this house?"

* * *

By late afternoon they had recovered enough to discuss their plans for the evening.

"I think we'll skip the drinking this time," Adam suggested. "You'll like this place."

"That's what you said about the disco," said Len.

"No, seriously, you'll feel right at home. You'll see why when you put on the outfit. And that's all I'll say about that."

"Somehow I do not find that comforting."

"Oh, come on! We're supposed to be having a good time this weekend! Don't be a killjoy!"

"A 'good time' should not leave you semi-comatose for a good part of the next day."

"We won't drink this time!"

"I'll believe it when I see it."

"Oh, come on! You don't really think I'd be dumb enough to get that messed up again, do you?"

"You've made bad decisions before."

"I thought we weren't gonna bring that up again."

"I'm talking about the ski trip. That went so wrong, we didn't have another field trip again."

"That wasn't my fault!"

"You were the one who was all 'Let's go skiing, it'll be fun!' Yeah, some fun."

"What ski trip?" Kit asked. "What happened?"

"What didn't happen?" said Chance. "The final tally was six broken legs, one collision with a tree - he was fine - two people buried in a snow pile - we dug them out - and we ended the day with a massive search of the mountain for two lost skiers."

"Let me start at the beginning," Len said. "I was up in the mountains during the summer, and I saw that they had skiing in the wintertime. I didn't really ski, so I didn't think too much of it. But then I mentioned it to Adam, and he wanted to go."

"And then I wanted to go," said Ian.

"We were lucky enough to sign up for a package deal, but everyone who heard wanted to go. By the time we were ready to go, there must have been fifty people, and we had to rent a bus."

"Did you sing camp songs?" Kit asked.

Len gave him a look. "No, we didn't. Then we got to the resort, and they only had about twelve rooms for all of us. We had to sleep four to a room, not that we got much sleep. The people next door were really loud."

"We went and told them to shut up," said Chance, "but they wouldn't. Finally, one of the chaperones went and got the management, and the loud people got kicked out. Win!"

"Yeah, but then the next day, I ended up on the wrong side of the mountain, and I found myself in the middle of this costume party on skis."

Kit cracked up laughing at that image. "Really? Costumes?"

"Really! It was like Halloween came late for these people. Anyway, by the time I disentangled myself from them, I didn't know where I was, or how to get back. I tried going around the mountain, and I came this close to a bear."

"How big?"

"Medium-sized. I hid behind a tree until it went by. I'm surprised it didn't see me or smell me or something. I got out of there as fast as I could and headed off in what I thought was the right direction. After a while, I came out into a clearing, and there's Ian lying in the snow, making angels. I said, 'Do you know how to get back to the lodge?' and he said-"

"I said, 'I don't know, I'm lost!'" Ian finished.

"We went around in circles until the sun went down, and then we got tired and sat down under a tree. And that's when the Ski Patrol found us."

"Wow," Kit said. "And here I thought you had this perfect sense of direction."

"I never said I did."

"Why didn't you just use your Rider Sense to find your way home?"

"Cause I wasn't that good at it yet. This was still a couple of years before we were Chosen. All I had learned so far was basic stuff."

"Excuse me for interrupting," Rosalie said, "but I wanted to know if I should bother making dinner, or if you're eating at this place you're going?"

"Well, there is food there, but just appetizers and stuff," said Adam. "We'd better eat before we go, if you don't mind, ma'am."

"In that case, I'd better get started. I was thinking fresh fish, with salad greens, and iced tea. How does that sound?"

"Throw in some curly fries," said Ian, "and you've got a deal."

"I don't think I have any of those."

"Have you looked?" he asked her, giving her a look that could best be described as desperate. "I mean, recently?"

"How recently are we talking?"

"Say . . . since this morning?"

"What are you up to, Bean?"

"I might have bought some stuff," he said, and left it at that.

"All right," she said, "I'll look." She went to the freezer and opened the door. "Are these dino nuggets yours?"

"Kind of."

"Well, you can take them home with you. I don't eat things like that."

"It's real chicken! Just in fun shapes!"

Chance rolled his eyes. "I can't take you anywhere, can I?"

After dinner, they all changed into their going-out clothes, which were pretty flashy. Then they waited for Len to emerge in his own gear.

"Where are you going," Katie asked, "Woodstock?"

"It's a surprise," said Adam. "Len, hurry up, the limo will be here any minute!"

"You can't be serious!"

"I am serious! Our reservation is for seven o'clock; if we keep him waiting too long, he'll leave without us!"

"No, I mean this outfit." Len stepped out of the downstairs bathroom, and Katie had to fight to suppress a giggle. "Day-Glo military chic is not my best look."

"Do you know how many vintage shops we had to hit before we found an authentic Sergeant Pepper uniform? They're all in museums now," said Chance. "Is the fit okay?"

"It's a little tight in the shoulders, but as long as I don't move around too much, it should be all right. Are you going to tell me what this is for now?"

"Not till we get there," said Kit. There was the beep of a horn from outside. "Limo's here."

"Have a good time!" Rosalie called as they went out the door. "Don't drink too much!"

"Oh, don't worry," said Len. "We're not planning on drinking at all."

* * *

No, Len hadn't planned on drinking, but nobody told the girls at the next table, who kept sending drinks over to him. He would take a sip of each to be polite, then set it aside. The problem was that they just kept sending him drinks, and those single sips added up in a big way.

By the time the lights went down and the evening's main entertainment was beginning, he was well on his way to being totally smashed, and the guys were too busy having a good time to notice. They were sticking to soft drinks and fruit juice, and they naturally assumed Len was, too.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," a voice boomed, "and welcome to the Pink Lady's Saturday Night Karaoke Flashback! Where you sing the greatest hits of the 50's, 60's, 70's, and 80's! I'm Mean Gene Marvillo, from Oldies 99, and I want to hear your favorite songs! If you're not already signed up for a slot, please see the hostess, and she'll fit you in. It'll be about five minutes while our machine warms up, so think about what you want to perform for us! You don't have to, but you'll want to! See you in five!"

"Karaoke," Len said. "You couldn't have just told me that?"

"Where's the fun in that?" Ian was all excited. He loved karaoke. "I already know what I'm gonna sing!"

Chance looked at him. "Let's make it a duet."

"Can we do that?"

"I don't see why not. I'll go sign us up. You sit here, and wait for me."

"I'll go with you," said Kit. "I know what I want to do."

He went up and checked the book listing all the songs that were programmed into the karaoke machine. The one he wanted was there, although the two songs on either side were unfamiliar to him. He signed for one of the open slots, and sat down again.

"Where's Len?" he asked, noticing the empty chair.

Nolan shrugged. "Men's room, maybe. He'll be back."

But when several minutes went by and Len didn't return, Kit started to get nervous. He got up and started discreetly looking around the room for him. Finally he spotted him by the giant stack of 45s that flanked the DJ table.

"What are you doing? Come sit back down with us."

"I know this one!" he said, pointing at the label on the top record. "How's it go . . . dah dah dah, dah-dah daaaaah . . ."

"Yeah, okay. Now come on."

A man in a disco-ball jacket and a laminated badge came up to them. "Sir, could you please step back from the podium? You can wait for your name to be called over by the jukebox."

"But I wanna sing!" Len protested.

"So does everyone else. You have to wait your turn. Now step back, please. Don't touch the props."

"I know that one too! Dee dee dee-dee, dee dee-dee dee-dee -"

"I'm really sorry about this," Kit said, as he attempted to steer Len back to their table.

The man just shrugged. "We're used to drunks here."

"But he hasn't even been drinking!"

"That's not what it looks like to me."

"I just had one sip!" Len insisted, teetering dangerously.

"Of how many drinks?" Kit asked him.

"I dunno . . . ten? Twelve? Maybe fifteen . . . threes are lucky."

"Oh, great."

Just then, Len's phone rang. Before Kit could grab it away from him, he answered it. "Hello?"

"Hey, Len, it's me," said Price. "I found what you were looking for. By the way, who's Allen Richards?"

"What?"

"It was in the search box when I logged on. Who else are you looking for?"

"Nobody! It's nothing! Just forget it!"

"Forget what?" Kit asked. Len waved a hand at him impatiently.

"I wasn't sure if it was yours or-"

"Just tell me what you found."

"What I found, actually, was the person who took the picture."

"He's still alive?"

"She, actually."

"She'd have to be a hundred years old."

"Ninety-six, and still sharp as a tack. And get this: she lives in Reno."

"You're kidding."

"I've made arrangements to swing by and pick her up on the way to your place. Is tomorrow afternoon okay, or should I make it earlier in the day?"

"What's tomorrow? Sunday?"

"Sunday, yeah."

"I think we're leaving around . . . five or so. I can't remember."

"Len," Price asked slowly and deliberately, "are you drunk?"

"What? No! I only had little sips!"

"Of how many drinks?"

"I dunno . . . ten? Twelve?"

"Oh, man, you're not gonna be in any shape to talk to her tomorrow."

"I'm not the one who needs to talk to her. Bring her! More the merrier, I say!"

"Bring who?" Kit asked, and Len shushed him.

"Okay, we'll be there about three o'clock or so. She's bringing coffee cake. I told her she didn't have to, but she insisted. Although I did manage to talk her out of the bottle of wine."

"Whyyyy? I like wine! It's so pretty, sitting there in its glass all in-inno . . . innoculous-"

"I think you'd better go now," Kit said, and took the phone from him. "Sorry, bye."

"What'd you do that for? There's gonna be cake!"

"Yeah, but right now you need to come sit down and wait for your turn to sing. It might be a while." He flagged down a passing waiter. "Can I get a glass of water here?"

"Sure."

"Actually, make that two. And if anyone else sends drinks over here, please send them back with our apologies. We're done drinking for the night."

"Yes, sir."

"What'd you do that for?" Len whined. "I wanna drink!"

"No more drinks for you! Look at what it's doing to you! You never act like this!"

"I'm sorry . . ." In an instant, Len went from mad to sad. "Don't yell at me."

"I'm not. I'm just telling you. You're done drinking for the night. We need you to sober up by the time the limo gets here, or we'll be walking home and getting soaked along the way. And you know what happens when you go out in the rain."

"It's raining out?"

"I think so. The people coming in are kind of damp."

"Ooh boy."

"Tell me about it. I don't think we're going anywhere for a while, so why don't you just sit down and wait for your turn?"

"Have they started yet?"

"Can't you tell?" Kit nodded up toward the stage, where a skinny young man in a bow tie was murdering "Rocket Man."

"Oh. Right. When's my turn, again?"

"When they call you. I wonder where the other guys went?"

"I'm right here," Chance said. He was sitting way on the other side of the table, a glass of what looked like fruit juice in front of him. At least, Kit hoped it was fruit juice. "I think we're next."

"I picked the song," said Ian, who was coming back from the bar with a clear, bubbly drink. "It's Diet Crystal Something," he said. "I made sure it was diet."

"Um, good." Kit wasn't sure why, but he knew that Ian wasn't allowed to have sugar. He wasn't diabetic or anything; it just did crazy things to his metabolism, or something. As long as he was sober, that was all that mattered, at this particular point in time.

"Anyone else hungry?" Kit asked. "I'm hungry."

"We ate dinner," Chance pointed out.

"Yeah, like four hours ago! Anyone see any food around here?"

"I think they have some appetizers over at the bar," said Adam. "Chicken wings and shrimp and meatballs and stuff. I'll watch your seat for you."

"Thanks." He got up and went to see what was there.

While he was gone, they called number 17. It took a moment for them to realize which of them had number 17. "That's us!" Ian called, waving the slip of paper with the number. "Come on, Channy. It's our turn."

"What?"

"To sing! Wait till you hear this, we picked the perfect song!" He grabbed his partner by the arm and dragged him up onstage, where they turned Elton John's "Your Song" into a duet, to riotous applause.

"I think they like us," Ian said, as they sat back down.

The rest of the evening passed in something of a blur, especially for Len, who wasn't used to drinking and so it affected him more than usual. When his number was called, he stood up, and promptly fell over. Kit and Nolan had to help him up to the stage, where he, appropriately, sang "With a Little Help From My Friends." They even harmonized with him.

When they were finished, Kit said, "I think we'd better go. He's fading fast."

"But I didn't sing yet!" Adam protested.

"We can come back another time, and you can sing then. We're done for the night. Somebody call the limo."

"It's only nine-thirty," Chance pointed out.

In response, Kit looked at him, looked over at Len, who was slumped against the wall, and then looked back at Chance.

"I'll call."

* * *

Forty minutes later, they were home. "Did you not have a good time?" Katie asked.

"Some of us had too good a time."

"Oh, dear."

They hauled a semi-conscious Len upstairs, got him into a bed, and let him sleep it off. Someone would have to stay with him to make sure he woke up again in the morning.

"I'll do it," Kit said.

"No, I will," said Adam. "I have more experience with Len when he's, um . . . incapacitated. Although the last time he was drunk like this was the end of World War Two. We had a big party, and he kinda went a little too far. But, hey, twice in sixty years isn't bad, is it?"

"I guess not. Okay, he's all yours. I'll, um, sleep in the other room, I guess. Just let me go get my stuff."

They all went to bed, planning for a quiet Sunday with absolutely no drinking or partying whatsoever.

But in all the confusion, Len had failed to tell them about the phone call he had received at the club. And so, when the doorbell rang about five-thirty that afternoon, it was one heck of a surprise.


End file.
